


The Binding Tie

by limey_limey



Series: In Chains [1]
Category: Original Work, Xena: Warrior Princess
Genre: AU, Domestic Violence, F/F, F/M, Modern Setting, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, Uber, extreme violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:22:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 31
Words: 71,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25736491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/limey_limey/pseuds/limey_limey
Summary: What do you get the woman who has everything? A life of her own. She has the money, the cars and the beautiful family and she doesn't want any of it. Living her life to her husbands whim and her fathers suffocating life. Can the threats of an assassin set her free?What do you get the woman who has nothing? A life that she had. She lives to serve. Lives to fight. The childhood that she knew will imprison her in bonds tighter than she has ever known. Will the threats of an assassin be her prison?
Relationships: Gabrielle/Najara, Gabrielle/Xena, Xena/original character
Series: In Chains [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1866925
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Reposting here from The Academy of Bards -   
> Very much an old Style Uber  
> Francesca - Xena  
> Hunter - Gabrielle

Speeding cars cruised passed the still Land Rover, their momentum rocking it from side to side, like a babe's cradle. To any passing traveller it seemed to be an oasis of calm in a desert of chaos. Unknown to these swift moving spectators, it was truly the heart of a volcano - bubbling with suppressed rage, ready to explode.

"You did what?" The agitated hand tried in vain to smooth the creased brow.

"Look, he wasn't working out for me so I let him go. Why does everything have to turn into some sort of mystery to you?" In exasperation the young woman turned to the window and the night.

"Do you even realise the danger we're in?" His voice began to crack, " You haven't..."

"No! No, of course not. I wouldn't interfere with the protection of my children. I care about what happens to them!" A lone tear of frustration escaped her eye and was brutally brushed away.

"You're telling me that you honestly don't care what happens to yourself? To me?" Disbelief lay heavily in the air.

A barely whispered "no" was her only response.

The slap of open palms on the leather wheel echoed through the cabin, startling the young woman into facing her husband. His hazel eye's bored into her blue with a feral intensity. His fists slowly flexed in their hold on the wheel. A vein pulsed in his temple in perfect time with the clicking of the hazard warning lights. His voice, now composed, became deadly as a snake's hiss.

"We'll see what your father has to say about this, 'Princess'. Your well-being is important to the children. They need you. How can you be so selfish all the time? Must be what comes from being a big star."

Without waiting for a reply to his devastating tirade he harshly turned the key in the ignition and recklessly lurched into the fast moving traffic. Tears begin to roll down her face, increasing in intensity as the couple near their home.

**********

"Mr Prince your daughter and her family have arrived, Sir. Should I show them in or take them directly to their suite?"

"Show them in please, Lance."

The dapper young butler nodded politely in ascent and headed out of the door. Salvatore watched him until the door closed and let out a contented sigh. For the head of the biggest logistics corporation in the free world, life was good. All of his children were coming to stay and he could start to built some stronger bridges with his eldest son, his heir. Not to mention that his little girl was about to walk through those double doors.

The life of the rich and powerful is not always as easy as people may think. Salvatore Prince had been born into this way of life, but had chosen to have a career and make his grandfather's industrial fortune even greater. The cost of this endeavour was great, almost loosing him his wife and son. Even now his rapport with his sons was strained, the grown men still unable to overcome the paternal neglect of their youth. His only consolation was the fact that they loved their sister as much as he did.

His reverie about the past was broken with the opening of the oak doors. He could not keep the grin from spreading across his ruggedly handsome face as he took in the sight of his youngest child. Francesca Prince, his little Fran, was not so little anymore. At almost twenty-eight she was a stunning vision, a feminine version of her father. His rugged handsomeness transformed into the chiselled beauty of this woman. Creamy skin and azure eyes set into a classic face surrounded by onyx hair. Her devastating good looks combined with the greatest singing talent of her generation had garnered her a fortune of her own. Her three children were another light in his life, even though they resembled his son-in-law more than his daughter. Compared to his vibrantly coloured child, her husband was a monotone of brown. Hair, eyes and skin all a variation of the same tone.

The older man rose from his armchair and with open arms walked towards his baby. Instantly three bundles of energy filled the convenient alcove provided by this gesture. Unlike her children, his daughter never greeted him jubilantly anymore. She didn't really seem to do anything with real enthusiasm these days. Life was ebbing from her more and more as the children grew older. Little by little she was slipping away. At this rate by the time they reached twenty their mother would be dead, the depression defeating her. This realisation sent a shudder to the core of Salvatore's being.

Seeing the clouded look pass behind his eyes, Francesca walked shyly towards her father. She kept a subtle distance between Douglas and herself in order to forestall any questions from her father. She couldn't bear a scene between her father and her husband right now. The drive to collect the children had been enough of an ordeal.

Watching her Papa with her babies drove such thoughts to the back of her mind. The sight always brought a smile to her face and a wash of childhood memories to her mind. She and her two brothers had often run into this study to interrupt their father's work. At fifteen Nathaniel had still been unsure about how to interact with his often absent father. He would always hang back by the doors. This was not an attribute that either his ten year old brother or three year old sister shared. Rodrigo never hung back for anything. A man of action today, he had been a child of perpetual energy. He would barrel into their stoic father with wild abandon, a polar opposite to his older sibling.

Even at such a tender age (if tender can describe a child who was often covered in as much mud as clothing) Francesca knew she was the apple of her daddy's eye. Salvatore lavished attention on his youngest child in the same way his wife did with the boys. She had been born at a time of self-discovery for the head of Prince Corporations. Unlike her brothers Francesca had been planned with equal enthusiasm by both parents. Looking back she could see how easy it would have been for her brothers to resent her, yet they didn't. Even as boys they had both possessed their own unique forms of sensitivity.

Thinking back to her childhood brought more than simply happy memories. They also brought with them pangs of the sorrow and loneliness of a nine-year-old girl and a future of promise that was never fulfilled. Of a green-eyed girl and her willing acolyte. She quickly tried to shake off the tide of memories, afraid they would drown her in her already overwrought state.

"Francesca Prince!...Sorry Dougie, old habits. Francesca Rose, you just going to stand there all day or come and give you dear old dad a hug?" The gentle chiding brought sparks to Salvatore's steely eyes as his lips turned down in a fatherly pout.

"Hello Papa," the almost crushing force of the older man's embrace gave Francesca a much needed grounding from which she could pull herself together.

"Hello Dad!" Douglas enthused. "Good to see you again. We'd come more often, but you know how it is with Frany's work schedule. Not to mention mine." He cut his eyes towards his wife and quickly back to the patriarch. His message of discretion was clear. "I need to talk with you later, in private." Casually leaning forward he whispered his next words "It's about Frany's security..." He trailed off as he pulled away, knowing full well that where Francesca and danger were concerned Salvatore would do anything.

"Of course, Dougie, no problem. It'll be good to catch up." Inside, his stomach was in knots over the fate of his child.

Francesca's heart plummeted through her chest with the brief, quiet exchange. She had begged Doug not to get her family involved, yet his blatant disregard for her feelings was once again plain. His career and profile ( and her own, if the truth be known) were all that mattered to Douglas Rose Jr. The all-too familiar mantle of depression once again settled over her. She had to retreat before she crumbled in front of her family.

"Papa." She smiled at both men trying not to alienate her husband further. "I need to go and arrange the nursery. You know how the kids are when we all get together, so I really think it should be perfect." She knew that her voice was an octave higher than it should be. Fighting tears was hard. She silently hoped that the men in her life wouldn't notice.

They didn't. "Alright Princess, just give your Papa a kiss." She leaned forward and brushed his cheek softly with her lips. She hurriedly turned and left with barely a smile as goodbye for her husband. The children had gone into the playground and were happily playing. She had to get out. Now.

**********

The nursery had changed a lot since Francesca had used it with her brothers. First Nathaniel's and now her own and Rod's children had left an indelible mark on the room. New toys and old held equal importance around the space. A big painting table once dominated it, but now a huge monitor held pride of place, a sign of the times. The walls and carpeted floor were the only things that hadn't changed. They had been studiously kept the same colour since the room was designed forty years ago. Cheery shades of blue and yellow gave the room an airy quality. It was designed to make the children relax.

After locking the door Francesca sank to the floor in tears. She crawled, gasping for air, to the lone uncluttered area of the room. Sobs racking her body as she drew her knees to her chest, she began to rock slowly back and forth. She wanted so much to stop the pain. The room and the tears took her back to being the nine-year-old with no control over her own destiny. They always took away her happiness, her freedom with no question about what she might want.

She raised her tear-stained face from her knees and surveyed the room with blurry eyes. The distorted images began to merge into one perfect moment from the past. 

"Chess, come on!" the tall, tow-headed girl groused as she waited for her friend to get ready.

"You'll only be grumpy if we don't have all the stuff we need. 'Specially if we haven't got enough food," pouted the chubby little brunette.

"It's especially," the elder child mumbled as her best friend bustled out the door with an angelic smile on her cherubic face.

Francesca was happier than she had been in months. Rhani was home and they had time to play and go on a picnic. For as long as Francesca could remember the blond had been a part of her life. She had been raised side-by-side with the other girl, almost from the day she was born. Her very first memory was of the green eyed little girl, age three, chasing a fat little toddler with the garden hose. Francesca had always been 'plump', she so wanted to be like Rhani. The daughter of her father's servant, she was tall and athletic, but she loved her smaller friend dearly and it made the rich little heiress feel blessed.

As far back as that first memory, Francesca had been aware that her friend would disappear from the house and from lessons. Sometimes she was gone for days, at other time's weeks. Nobody would ever tell the child where the blond went and she never asked. It was a simple fact of her life. However recently Rhani had been gone more than ever, the household had been missing one member for almost four months. If Francesca didn't ask this time, she thought she might just explode. Rhani always came back with cuts and bruises - whatever she did it must be fun, like tree climbing. She resolved to ask her later, by the river.

Six-months her playmate's junior, Francesca was a child filled with the wonder of the world. Her big blue eyes in her chubby baby-face would widen in awe at the slightest thing - from a butterfly to a maths problem. She always had to find her own answers to any question life raised. Her creamy white skin, smattered with freckles and her black ringlets gave her the look of a storybook princess. She was simply irresistible to grownups. Today proved no exception, with a pleading look and a carefully placed 'please' she managed to get the duo out of the house with a backpack full of food.

They walked close together down the path that they had made to get them to the water without being seen. Rhani walked slightly ahead, clearing any obstructions out of their way. Due to her greater height, she was also responsible for carrying the bag. She considered herself to be the heiress' protector and the other little girl loved it. Rhani was a full head and shoulders taller than her friend having undergone a growth spurt in the last year. While she had been away she had also matured in other ways too. She no longer seemed to be a child, she appeared more like a teenager, her face was thinner and a slightly sullen cast had come over it. Her body was already on the threshold of adolescence, feminine curves trying to break free. Her almost white-blonde hair now barely reached her jaw and her infectious personality had cooled. Yet even with all these changes she still acquiesced to Francesca's wishes. Whatever the younger girl wanted she got. Each child worshipped the other unreservedly.

Although the blonde never volunteered any information about why she had to go away and exactly what she did, she was willing to talk about her friends in these far away places. As they neared the clear water and threw their stuff on the bank she launched into a story about her exploits with a kitchen-maid's daughter called Jordan. Fran loved to hear Rhani talk, her stories were always fun and filled with mischief, her voice rich with emotions. Sometimes she felt jealous about these other friends, she wanted to be with her best friend all the time. She always had.

"Jordan and me raided the kitchens last week so we could have a picnic like this 'cept we took her mum's dog with us." Rhani was sprawled on her back in the grass, looking up at her friend with a grin.

"It's except," she teased, falling back in to safety of the game. She felt confused. Her insides felt funny, she did these things with Rhani. It was special to them. "How old is Jordan?" She sat cross-legged beside the reclining figure and pulled the satchel towards her lap. She dug out a stuffed pastry for both of them and rested them on her knees as she waited for an answer.

"What's in that?" Her reaching hand was slapped away.

"Not until you answer the question." This was accompanied by a pout.

" 'Kay." She propped herself up on her elbows and looked out towards the water. "She's fourteen. She's a head taller than me and has the most amazing brown eyes. Like chocolate. She's really pretty and her skin's sort of gold like her hair. I really like her a lot," she bit her lower lip.

A little voice beside her asked, "More than me?"

"No Chess, it's different. It feels weird... Anyway, there's this boy who keeps eating the apples out of the storage room. He starts this one batch and doesn't realise that they've started to ferment so..."

The day passed quickly and was filled with playing and talking. They tried to catch fish with their bare hands (they always did) but just ended in a splash-fight (they always did that, too). They tussled in the grass and played catch and 'name that cloud' until it was time to go head home. The day had been so full that Francesca had forgotten her questions about Rhani's time away, but as they got closer to the house the mood got more sober. Reality kicked back into gear she realised that it would soon be time for Rhani to go away again. The person who loved her unconditionally and never asked anything more of her than she was willing to give was here with her now. Why couldn't it be forever.

"You're going to be here for my birthday? Right?" Francesca almost begged.

"I hope so, Chess."

"Love you, Rhani."

"Luv Ya back - last one home's a rotten potato." With a raspberry the blonde took off at a dead run, the blue bag bouncing against her shoulder. 

"Why didn't you come back?" The choked sobs of the adult Francesca began to fade. Her days with her best friend, although rare, had been the best of her life.

She raised her head a second time and blinked away the last of her tears as her eyes registered the fading light coming from the window. Jumping to her feet she rushed into the children's bathroom. Blue eyes looked back at her from the mirror. The face blotchy and red, eyes and nose swollen. There was no way that she could go in front of her parents looking like this. Opening the door to the hallway she carefully eased around it to check that there was no servants in the corridor before rushing to her own room. She quickly donned her silk pyjamas and was soon in bed feigning sleep so that when the servant came to call her to dinner he left alone.


	2. Chapter 2

"Blue squad to quarters! Red and Orange to firing range four. Green to the mess. Predators remain!"

The four squadrons, encompassing one hundred and eighty men and women, formed ranks and marched to their designated locations. Each individual wore the colours of their group, a spectrum of people no more important than a pixel on a computer screen. They cleared the arena leaving only twenty men and women on the burning sand. The browns and blacks of their training uniforms absorbing the sun's heat like sponges. Even at this level of discomfort none of them showed a trace of emotion or twitched a muscle in pain. The only sign they were not statues was the sweat running off their bodies and pooling in the sand at their feet.

These were the elite, tuned to perfection like machines. Weekly, devoted audiences would pay to watch them in combat. The stable to which they belonged was popularly known as 'The Hunting Grounds' because of its most famous group of slaves. Every stable had an elite - some as famous as the Predators, some not. These slaves were treated like any other, treated with distain and punished with pain. However, unlike their counterparts, they appeared in advertisements and commercials to promote their sport.

"As I am sure you are aware from your dalliances with the house slaves, Master Hahn's is selling off this stable and all of his other slaves. This is to be a wedding present to the new Mistress Huhns who does not wish to own slaves. You will NOT be emancipated. The Master is going to sell you at a private auction. As of tomorrow you will be the property of new masters. All of the other fighters along with the stable have been sold. You are to be individually sold due to your training in weapons and strategy. In his infinite generosity the Master has chosen to give you the rest of the day to yourselves."

The slave master dismissed them and made his way quickly back to his office. Paperwork waited for no man and he wanted to make a good impression on his new employers. Behind him in the arena the warriors slowly relaxed, uncoiling every muscle until they were at ease. They never completely let their guard down. Years of training had ingrained a state of perpetual distrust into the core of their being. They stood in a loose circle and regarded each other in silence.

**********

The auction catalogue was open in Salvatore's hand. The pages bounced in time with his movements, brushing the slick plastic cover over his thumb and palm. His eyes flicked from the black and white text to the glossy photo that accompanied each dissertation. He looked to his right where his eldest son, Nathaniel, walked and showed him a slave that had particularly caught his attention. Not to be forgotten Rodrigo, who had been walking at his father's left, bobbed behind the other men so he could peer over their shoulders. He joined in the evaluation of the male in question. The three Prince men had decided not to bring Douglas. He grated on the younger men's nerves and was beginning to affect the family patriarch in the same way. It was agreed that he needed to spend some time with his family, something he did precious little of.

Slave sales ran in the same manner as a horse or cattle auction. The only real variation between the sale of human flesh was that the individuals were not paraded around a ring. The buyer still had the opportunity to get close to the bodies and handle them to check for muscle tone and reflexes. Rather than being in stalls each slave was tethered to a solid steel post, which reached from ceiling to floor. The collars around both neck and waist secured them to this. Their arms and legs were also restrained, but more loosely so that the buyers could more easily inspect them. Each one was also on a dais raised a foot off the floor, which rotated to allow a view of the back.

On their original purchase slaves receive a security implant at the back of the neck. This is connected to the spinal cord and controls movement. Any violence performed against a free citizen would be punished with instant paralysis. Each master reprogrammed these chips so that slaves could perform new functions. The simple programming present at the auction meant that the killers - no matter how well trained these were still killers - had to be kept on a tight leash.

Due to the high profile nature of the sale there was a heavy amount of both security personnel and the media inside the show room. Only the super-rich or corporations could afford the Predator slaves; thus, although busy the room was not congested. The Princes walked through the heavy doors and into the circus. The warriors were arranged in a horseshoe around the room, beginning to the left of the door and ending on the right. The less prestigious members of the elite team were in these positions. Those expected to raise higher bids were at the apex of the arch. This was also mirrored in the brochure.

The room was beige walled and high ceilinged; the slave's stands were the only furnishing. Rodrigo bounced around the room like an over-excited puppy. He may not have done much with his life, when compared to his peers, but he knew about the physical form. His evaluation of both the male and female body in both an athletic and aesthetic context was more highly developed than his brother or father's. His love of the arena and his particular fondness for this team made him an excellent commodity to have at the sale. After surveying the room at whirlwind speed, he returned to his family. As Salvatore moved from body to body, Rodrigo filled him in on the body form and personality. Nathaniel would inform them as to the level of training and capabilities from the brochure. Once they had toured the room they adjourned to the auction room itself to discuss their options.

"I say we should definitely get 'The Hunter' and 'The Wolf'. Look at their stats. Hunter is trained in surveillance and strategy, she's an expert marksman and has the highest success rate of any living fighter. She has controllable speech and has never attacked a free individual since Huhns has owned her. The only glitch in her records is that rebellion she led and the guy she killed prior to being made a warrior. Anyway, that was over thirteen years ago. She'd be perfect for Francesca. It says she only requires four hours' sleep too." Rodrigo's excitement at owning a piece of sporting history was boundless.

"Still sounds too dangerous to me. What if she attempted that again? You have to remember she was a house slave when she killed that man with her bare hands. Little more than a child at the time." Salvatore's main concern was his daughter and her family.

"Father these are all killers. By definition they are going to be dangerous. You've got to remember that whoever we buy will be chipped. As much as I hate to say it, Rod's right." He grinned at his little brother.

"Fine," a long-suffering sigh. "Who else? I thought 'The Wolf', so I at least agree with that. He sounded like a good choice for Douglas." He arched a questioning eyebrow at his son.

"Well Fran's basically sorted. Hunter can be with her basically twenty-four seven. In the four hours that they are not together we can make sure Fran is with the children. I suggest we get four more. That way we have a set guard for each family member and a spare to rotate. Not to mention using private security firms."

"Any of the other warriors would be great, with the exception of 'Thorn'. She's a nut. I know they're programmed, but I still wouldn't trust her." Both younger men settled back in their seats, prepared to let their father do what he does best. Hustle.

"This is going to be one expensive shopping trip, boys."

**********

The slaves were unchained from the daises and led into an antechamber to await the outcome of the sale. They were eclectic group consisting of three women and seventeen men, hardened killers who, in the main, looked no more insane or dangerous than any other slaves. Their actions, though, set them apart. The way they moved, spoke and even ate said volumes about what business they were in. To realise that even the most inept member of this band had killed over twenty other fighters was shocking. To be told that the young woman, who sat slightly apart from the rest of the group, had been a fighter for over fifteen years and had killed over a hundred men was shocking. To know her male counterpart had killed almost as many was horrifying.

These two exceptional members of this infamous team were Hunter and Shep. They provided the guidance and leadership that the group needed. As the rest of the warriors began to talk among themselves in apprehensive, but excited tones, Shep took the time to look at his young friend. Shep had been born a slave, both his parents were warriors thus he had been marked for life. Born warriors fetch a high price and are not allowed to fight to the death until they are eighteen although they fight from the age of twelve. Bought slaves can kill and be killed as soon as they can wield a weapon. He had been born to the Shepherd stable and the corporation name had stuck to him. Rather than calling him Mathew or using his stage name, he was always known as Shep. It intimated a degree of fallibility he did not possess.

His young friend had no such stigma. As soon as she had arrived at the stables, after killing a houseguest of her previous master, she had been given the name Hunter. Little else would suite the blue-and-white haired young woman. Her hair was patterned in a tiger stripped motif matching her modified blue eyes with their cat slit pupils. The rest of her body also paid homage to dangerous creatures. The tattoo that stretched from elbow to shoulder and wrapped the left side of her torso depicted almost every natural predator, beautiful but deadly. The only part of the woman that was not immediately intimidating was her height. Standing at only five and a half feet she was small when compared to other fighters. Yet when one realised how much punishment that small package could deliver it only made her more frightening.

"Hey kid, looks like you and me'll be going our separate ways."

"Sure does."

"You're going to cost some lucky suit an absolute fortune. You're worth the rest of us put together."

"Don't exaggerate Shep." Both eyebrows rose in scepticism.

"And don't you be modest. Doesn't suite you." He rubbed his forehead slowly. "Do you think we'll be able to cope on our own?" That he was talking about the whole group was obvious.

"Why not?" Her attention was fully focused on him now.

"Most of us aren't like you. We've been amongst groups of other warriors our whole lives. We build families with each other. I'm just afraid that they won't take well to being the only warrior."

Silence was the only response. The hand gestures, which she used to communicate when her speech implant was active, halted. Her hands rested, still as death on her knees. Looks like that's the end of that conversation,Shep realised. Confronting problems such as these was not something she ever wanted to deal with; she preferred direct action to emotional discourse. He would be left to prepare the others as best he could in the little time they had left.

**********

"SOLD! The Prince Corporation takes our final lot. Thank you for your attendance Ladies and Gentlemen. Those of you with purchases can now proceed to the cashier."

The Prince men walked in the same direction as the handful of other buyers. Prince corporations had, by far, made the bulk of purchases. Rodrigo patted his father on the back lightly. "Nice going, Pops. I didn't think you were going to buy seven!"

"Nor did I, but the twins were too good an opportunity. I was just thinking of the whole image thing. Identical twins to guard identical twins. I thought you'd appreciate the aesthetics of that." He shot his son a mischievous look.

"You do realise Francesca is going to go into meltdown, don't you? Our baby sister isn't exactly known for her love of surprises. Not to mention we've gone completely behind her back and sided with Doug."

"Thanks Nat, you're such a ray of sunshine." Rodrigo stuck out his tongue.

"He's right. Maybe we should have them delivered tomorrow so we can soften her up a little." He began to remove his credit card from his jacket pocket.

"You'll only be giving her a chance to talk you around. The only way she'll accept it is if you put it in her lap. Something she can't refuse. Hell, having another woman her own age around might stop her talking to herself." He folded his arms across his chest.

"She doesn't talk to herself Nat, she's still talking to Rhani," Rodrigo's voice was suddenly sober.

A pained exhalation, "I know."


	3. Chapter 3

Heaving sobs wracked the slim form standing in front of the bay window, the fluorescent light shining through the large glass panels turning her into a black silhouette, nondescript and desolately alone. She still could not believe that she had been betrayed, her single haven breached, leaving her feeling very much adrift and confused. It was not what her father and brothers had done that made her feel betrayed, rather it was that they had sided with Douglas and told her nothing of their plans.

Francesca's life had, up until this point, been filled with the love and support of a family which shared everything. There were very few secrets, if any in the Prince family. Ever since childhood she had known she could rely on her brothers for disclosure and support. Until this point she had faith that her brothers were not fond of her husband, Nathan, proving to be openly hostile at times. Her views were now turned on their head and everything her brothers had said since her marriage became suspect. Who could she trust now, when she needed someone so much?

She looked down from her second floor window and into the yard of the old stables, which her father had renovated into servants quarters several years ago. They had never been used, primarily because the family kept employees for life if they could and these long-term employees had their own homes. Thus they had stood empty until today when a busload of slaves had arrived and further ruined her already rotten life. A lone figure stalked into view, casting a sense of edgy menace over the previous tranquillity. Great, I'm to be protected by people more frightening than the people they protect me from, the thought skittered through her clouded mind. In the middle of the night two figures stood in dark isolation, the watcher and the watched, the hunter and the prey, the master and the slave.

**********

Hands viciously grasping her chin startled her from sleep. Panic gripped her as her eyes snapped open to take in the face of her attacker. After her initial alarm her eyes began to focus in the dim room until finally she could make out the features of the person standing over her.

"Douglas," a breathless plea.

"Listen to me, Princess. I'm sick of your self-indulgent antics; I want you, me and the kids safe. Your father wants us to have the best protection available. Tomorrow morning you're going to tell your father that you're ready to accept them. Then you're going to come out with the rest of us to get the slaves suitable attire," he hissed every word, emphasising each point with a rough jerk of her chin. His next words were sardonic as he stood and straightened his pyjamas. "We can hardly have them walking around looking like circus freaks, now can we?"

As he turned to leave he cast his quaking wife a charming smile and sauntered into his adjoining bedroom. Francesca managed to keep herself together until he left and then found herself once again in floods of tears, curled up in the middle of her bed. She had thought it would take longer for Douglas to snap, this had only been happening for a little over a week, his temper usually took longer to break. She sniffled and drew the bed-covers closer to herself. At least with a bodyguard she would be protected from her husband.

**********

They stood on display for their new owners, each of them at rigid attention. It had been ten days since they had been purchased and speculation among them had been rife as to what was happening. They had seen none of the family and had not even been inspected for illness or other weakness. That sort of reception had not been in their frame of reference. Today's events were more in accordance with the 'norm', yet their trepidation remained

Salvatore could see the tension in the bearing of each new slave. They were confused and in need of the relief of an organised practice session, something he had avoided until he knew Francesca's wishes. Now here they were approaching the stables to inspect other human beings. He shuddered at the thought. The Prince Corporation had always been staunchly against slavery and here he was with seven new acquisitions. He looked towards his three children and noticed how his sons walked protectively on either side of their baby sister. They looked so robust and full of energy they brought Francesca's fragility further into the forefront of his mind. Salvatore knew something besides the threats were bothering her, but whenever he pushed her she altered topic.

Douglas walked slightly behind and to the side of his wife and in-laws. He was surrounded by his children and looked the picture of the doting father. An identical little girl clung to each hand while his little boy strode purposefully in front of them. He looked comfortable and excited about the prospect of looking at the slaves and the children were feeding off his emotions. The head of the Prince dynasty felt a new shiver walk across his spin. In the back of his mind the seeds of fear were planted that Douglas was too eager to see men as animals and that his children would feel the same.

He returned his gaze and his thoughts forward to the rank of men and women that were now his army. He had to grin about that. His soldiers fighting a war to protect his little girl, he rather liked that idea. He would keep that image in his mind to stop him thinking about them as animals.

The group walked down the line studying each figure that they approached. It was different from when they had seen them at the auction. They were able to get very close to them and see the expressions on their faces. Dressed in white vests and black running shorts they looked far more human and less intimidating. Added to this perception was the fact that as the children began to run around them, all but one face broke into a grin at the antics. Francesca appreciated that and worried at the one sober, stone-like face.

They walked down the line, Rodrigo and Nat filling their sister and her husband in on the names of the various men and women as they came to them in the line. Francesca didn't say a word, she still hated the idea, but knew that she had to take in the information, or at least seem to. The first they approached was a tall man, whip-chord thin with a shaven head. His skin was very pale white and his eyes an equally pale blue. Snake. The name suited him. He was to be one of Douglas' two guards, and Douglas was looking at him with approval. They moved on.

The next two were identical except for the colour of their hair. They were mountains, huge arms and shoulders. One had white hair and the others dark brown. They shared the same deep chestnut skin tone and profuse body hair. They should have been intimidating but their eyes twinkled with mischief, theirs mouths trying desperately not to smile. Polar and Grizzly were indeed a couple of bears, Teddy bears. They would make excellent guardians for the children. She could see that and was happy. The children asked if they could talk to the men and were granted permission (as were the slaves, with a tilt of Salvatore's head) and soon the five of them were in an animated discussion.

Leaving the children behind, they neared Savage. This was a man whose name did not describe him well. He resembled a weasel far more then anything threatening. His hair was dirty blond and his eyes were the same dirty colour. Apparently he was an accomplished warrior like the rest of them but Francesca was sceptical. Fortunately he was Snake's second and would have nothing really to do with the children.

The man and woman who came next were standing imperceptibly closer to each than the others were. These were to be the ones who looked after the children when the twins were resting. They would also fill in as Francesca's guards and be present at any functions. The woman had stunning red hair that fell to her shoulders in waves and piercing green eyes. They had named her Phoenix in the arena because she looked like a being of fire. The man who stood so close to her was Wolf. His name as much a play on his real identity as it was a description of his grey hair and eyes. He was almost as big as the twins. Phoenix came close to his height but was svelte and sinewy, with small breasts making her appear even more streamline.

They moved to the last figure, standing several feet away from the others. This was to be her guard, a creature that didn't need any real sleep and who was more dangerous than the others put together. Francesca had already been given the remote to this woman's voice box and had made up her mind never to let her have voice. She was an insurrectionist and they had brought her into the Prince family. She couldn't risk her rousing the others. She hated the idea of being watched every moment, especially by this one. Danger oozed from her. The blue and white hair, designed to look like a tiger, was cut close to her head. Her white less eyes were an encompassing blue with a black slit for a pupil. Her skin was golden, but marred by scars on her face and arms. She was also heavily tattooed on her upper arms, creating the illusion of a dark t-shirt beneath the white. She was stocky with broad shoulders and muscles, which, although smaller rivalled even the largest man's in terms of definition. She was Hunter.

Francesca's revelry was broken by a voice over her shoulder. "Aren't they great, Princess?"

"Yes, darling." A new shiver ran up her spine as she smiled unconvincingly.

**********

"How was your holiday, Mama?" Francesca sat curled up in the study's large leather chair.

"It was lovely, darling, but it's much better to be back. I can't believe I missed four weeks with my babies and grandbabies. Your father was full of it when I got back last night. Seems like I've missed a lot," her eyes travelled to the figure hovering in the corner behind her daughter, "haven't I?"

She watched as her youngest child squirmed and her face grew paler. Blue eyes flicked around the room, not once resting on the short bodyguard. When eventually they focused back on her mother they were haunted and held a depth of resignation Darla had never seen in her morose child.

"The bodyguards are a really good idea, one of Dad's best. Doug is getting on really well with his pair. They have a lot of sports interests in common, apparently, and he spends hours talking to them. The children are the same." Finally her face broke into a rueful grin. "They've taken to Bear and Polar like they really are big toys. They are very alert, always on guard even when they play with the children. I was a little apprehensive when they started, scared that they'd want to hurt them, but they both have very caring personalities. I really think they will be good for the girls, they don't know many other twins. As for Terry, he wants to be them. The two floating guards are fantastic, we all like them. They're a couple, did Dad tell you? They are really good together..." Her babble trailed off as the topic drew closer to Francesca's situation.

Darla reached forward and laid her hand on a cotton-covered knee. "How about your 'shadow', honey?"

"Hunter, out!" The sharp command was sudden. The blue haired woman bowed and made her way out to guard the door.

"Fran?"

"Mama, I hate this! She's really aggressive. She does what I tell her but only to the letter. She's subversive and I can see the hate in her eyes. None of the others have that look. Dad told me I should turn her voice on, but I can't, it's too dangerous. What am I going to do?" She broke down into sobs and put her head into her hands.

Darla moved further forward until she was kneeling in front of the young woman and pulled her head to her shoulder. She gently stroked the dark hair and whispered soothing words until the sobs quieted and her daughter just rested against her, breathing ragedly. Darla looked towards the closed door, resolve setting in her eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

"Position one!"

Her hand poised casually at her side. The swords hilt held in a firm grip. Sweat beading on her temple, one errantly sliding down to meet her jaw. The pale moonlight around bleached the wood around her, turning it deathly white.

"Position two!"

Sword up, defensive posture across abdomen, breathing steady, feet apart.

"Position three!"

Lightening fast, sword switch from stomach to face, wrist tilts, knees bent, sword deflects down-thrust.

"Position four!"

Wrist rotates forward, arm extends, right foot forward. Lung.

"Position five!"

Left foot forward, right arm down, elbow tensed. Slash.

"Position six!"

Sword down. Pivot left foot, hips loose, right knee braced. Foot extends. Round house kick to face.

"Enough!"

A low growl emanated from her throat, the only vocalisation she could manage. Soft, low and dangerous. The man had stepped further back into the warmth and relative safety of the slave quarters. He was unwilling to further antagonise the volatile young woman. Turning his voice to its gentlest register, he once again tried to address her.

"Hunter you have to sleep. You can't keep doing this. Constantly training when you should be resting is making you far too edgy. You're going to snap and hurt somebody and then where do you think you'll be? You know they'll put you down if it happens again. We've been here nearly two months and I don't think I've seen you sleep for more than eight hours a week since we arrived. Just talk to me, maybe if you get it off your chest, you can rest."

The sword was suddenly and noisily wracked as she whirled on him, her face a mask of barely controlled rage. His Adam's-apple bobbed as he swallowed nervousley. He had never been on the receiving end of the fearsome visage and it terrified him, yet he stood firm. She approached him with mechanical precision; closer and closer until her shallow breaths rustled the fabric of his shirt.

"You don't know shit." The emphatic hand gestures clearly expressed her ire.

"Then tell me," he pleaded. "I know that The Princesscan be a bitch to you but we've had worse masters. God, you've had worse masters and it hasn't had this effect on you, so it can't just be that. Tell me, you know you can trust me."

"Not this time Shep. You can't know everything about me." Then she was gone, leaving a bemused Wolf in her wake.

**********

"Give it back!"

"No."

"Give it!"

"No."

"I'll tell Mama!"

"I don't care!"

"But it's mine!"

"Is not!"

"Is so!"

"Becky tell him!"

The two huge men seated in the room looked at the tableau before them with bemused expressions on their identical faces. Although they had grown to adore the children they were totally at a loss when they began to argue. They watched in fascination as the quietest of the three looked up from her colouring book and trudged towards the combatants. This one was the peacemaker. She was always pulled into the fray started by her twin sister and brother. The brothers found it hard to understand how two children born at the same moment like themselves could be so different. The little girls before them were not identical, but looked so alike that only the difference in eye colour and hair shade separated them.

The voices of the two combatants became more agitated as their sister joined them, bringing Rebecca to the verge of tears. Just when the brothers thought that they were going to be forced to intervene, the children's mother rushed in to diffuse the situation. It amazed the men that Mistress always seemed to sense when the children needed her. It was as though she had a sixth sense where they were concerned. They watched as she knelt by the trio and began to talk to them in soft, reasoning tones. Behind the scene of domesticity stood their leader, in their minds at least. Hunter stood rigidly beside the closed door, seeming to make a conscious effort not to look at the other people in the room.

Francesca walked towards the two men with a smile. "I need to speak with you in private for a moment. Come with me." Her voice was warm and pleasant as she addressed the brothers as if they were real people and not property. "Hunter! Stay! Protect!" The commands were given as if to a dog, this fact confusing the other slaves. Of all the slaves the brothers were treated with the most respect and Hunter with the least. Strange when some considered that the two women spent so much time together.

Once in the antechamber next to the nursery Francesca began to lay out her plan to the two men. She explained that the children had been arguing more since the slaves arrived. There was no problem with Rebecca, she was quiet and liked her own personal space, that was why she stayed out of the fights. It had more to do with the rivalry between eight year old Terrence and his five year old sister Rochel. They both craved attention and saw their two protectors as people whose favour they should compete for.

"Therefore I have come up with a solution, in the last thirty seconds anyway," she gave a warm chuckle. "I would like you to pick a child each and sort of... mentor them, I suppose would be the best way to describe it. If they feel one of you is Terry's protector and the other Shell's, it should stop them showing off."

"Not to be out of line, Mistress, but won't Rebecca feel at least a little left out? Alienated?" This came from Polar.

"Really, I don't think she will. Becky just wants a quiet life. She's happiest alone. Do you two ever feel that way?"

"Never, but I guess that could be because we're identical." The conversation carried on for some time as Francesca found herself fascinated by their unique view of her children.

**********

She heard the words.

"Hunter! Stay! Protect!"

By now she ignored the loud, harsh edge to the words and simply obeyed. Her resignation to this life she was to live was growing like a cancer, taking hold of her and filling her with malaise. They were not given enough stimulation, either mental or physical and she could feel it driving her slowly insane. As the door closed behind their retreating forms she contemplated how the others seemed to be enjoying the psuedo-freedom that they had garnered. They were held in much higher regard than she, a fact that very much bemused her. Her thoughts began to stray down a path from which she had forever banned them. She violently shook her head to clear them.

The sudden and startling movement coming from the silent guard drew the attention of all three children. They caste a look to one another and with a shared grin of total mischief they quickly approached her. Their mother had told them not to get too close to her, talk to her or generally even look in her direction because she was so dangerous. How could they resist a challenge like that? Quickly the three of them advanced on the poker rigid form.

Terry and Shell took the lead in this as in all things. Rushing up to the rigid form the two older children began to make silly faces and pull on her pant legs in order to gain her attention. She remained stoic, not even a blink in the children's direction. The giggles of the three children grew in intensity as they tried more and more outlandish methods of distraction. Rebecca was drawn into the fray and began to pull the same faces when a thought struck her. She drew back and beckoned for the others to follow her a few paces in front of the figure. Her five year old plan was simple: be polite.

"Hello, Hunter, thank you for coming." A shy smile trembled about her lips.

This caught the warrior's attention. Few people outside of her circle called her by name or even acknowledged her existence as a sentient being, yet here were these small human beings treating her with respect. She gazed down into the soulful brown eyes of the one who had addressed her and raised her hand in a gesture of thanks. Seeing this the other two began to squirm and Hunter could tell that they too were about to make their own overtures.

"Our Mama says you can't talk and that's why you just stand there like that when you come in. Is it true?" Terrence was never one to hold back asked questions outright. His seven year old sensibilities were his own.

"Are ya really as dangerwus as Mama says you are?" Rochel was in constant conflict with her big brother, their young lives filled with one-upmanship.

Hunter was beginning to find the three of them very amusing. No, amusing was the wrong word. The two louder ones were funny in the comedy duo kind of way, while the third was charming in her quite, shy way. She was so unused to this, and knew that the way these children were behaving was to be cultivated, even if she herself found human interaction difficult. The problem remained, how to talk to them without a voice? That's when an idea came to her. She placed her fingers across her lips and then made a throwing motion.

"See, told ya she couldn't talk."

Rebecca's sensitivity was hurt as she watched her twin continue to be rude to the visitor. She may only be five but she was an old soul, the outsider of the trio and wanted to make the solemn figure feel included. "Can you...um... show us how you talk?"

All Hunter could do was nod.

**********

Francesca stood framed in the partially open doorway and watched her babes play with the woman she had come to think of as no more than an animal. She had been standing, hidden in shadows, for a long time just monitoring their actions. She had expected that if the beast was ever let out of the bag it would be jumpy and incoherent, yet before her she saw the opposite of all her expectations.

The room was quite and the children calm as they sat fascinated by the gentle hand movements the slave made. Each child was saying a different letter of the alphabet and then the salve was making a hand gesture to each one. It took Francesca a couple of minutes to understand what was going on, but a bemused smile played across her lips when she realised that Hunter was teaching her children to sign the alphabet. She had always believed they could never learn too much. She decided not to interrupt and allow things to carry on as the slave was being gentle.

"Can you show us how to do our names?" the eagerness in Terry's voice was unmistakable. Hunter nodded in agreement.

It took the children about fifteen minutes to grasp their names and it was very hard for the warrior to teach them how to place gender onto their names because they did not understand what that meant. After all of the quiet, intellectual activities the three began to get fidgety, until with a burst of energy Terry pounced on Becky and began to tickle her mercilessly. The howls and squeals of laughter from the pair brought a smile to both the adult in the room and the one in the doorway. With a suddenness that surprised both women Rochel launched herself at Hunter and began to tickle her.

Hunter froze. Her every instinct as a warrior was to lash out at the sudden attack. Her own internal fail-safes telling her to pull away from the human contact. When Hunter froze, Francesca's heart began to beat double time as she became consumed with fear for her daughter. She could be ripped to pieces by the body guard with little effort. She had warned the children against approaching the creature. She began to move, but Hunter was faster. Suddenly the killing machine was rolling around on the floor like a five year old. The children where climbing all over her and having the time of their life. The laughter in the room was pure joy. Francesca knew she had appointments she must attend and to do so she must break up this moment.

Making sure the door made a lot of noise while she opened it, Francesca was not surprised to find Hunter where she had left her. The children were still rough-housing. After she had kissed each one goodbye, she turned to her slave and ordered her to follow. As she passed through the door, she caught the beatific smile the shorter woman threw at her babies and was stunned by it. Both women would have a lot to think about that night.

**********   
"I blow candle now?" Big green eyes blinked up at the auburn haired woman.

"Yes Rhani. Let's see if you can blow them both out with one breath. Your Mummy's big girl now, so you can make a wish." The older woman's grey eyes crinkled at the edges as she smiled.

The little blond head shook vigorously, "No!"

"No what sweetie?" The group of adults and older children looked universally perplexed.

"I blow one an' Chess blow one." The beaming child looked towards her friend. The younger toddler sat clapping in her mother's lap, blue eyes wide with wonder.

"Does Fran want to help Rhani?" Excited nodding from the tousled brunette head made her position clear as she climbed down and tottered towards Rhani.

"Blow!"

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

"...blow job! Do you understand me, you piece of shit?" The slap resounded off of her face.

"Yes Master." Her words were subdued. She dared not raise too much of his wrath or she would not be able to go home because of the severity of her injuries. The visits she cherished were becoming less frequent and would soon end, so all of them had to be cherished.

"If I ever hear of you refusing one of my clients again you will be indentured to a penal colony. I'm sure your little white ass couldn't cope with much of that. Now go back in there and you can suck the cock of every man in the room and if they want to take you it's on the house. That'll teach you to bite someone's dick, you little fuck!"

A second slap across her face sent her sprawling across the floor. Most eight-year old girls would have started to cry, but it was the only weapon she had. She fought by staying strong and sometimes performing stupid acts like today. To survive she would have to move beyond the pain.

"Get the fuck up!"

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"Up. Higher...Um, right there!" The prostrate form moaned in pleasure.

The lithe young blond straddling the muscular torso grinned as she jabbed an elegant finger into a tattooed shoulder-blade. Her actions elicited a howl of protest and a pout from the younger girl beneath her. She leaned down and as an act of consolation pressed a kiss to the same spot.

"You are such a baby!" She laughed at the reproachful look in the other girl's eyes.

"I'll have you know I am a great warrior!"

"Great Wuss." The finger jabbed again.

The reclined form turned quickly onto her back so that she was now looking up at the towering woman. An evil grin spread across her face, mirth filling her green eyes. Using her superior strength she launched herself at the other girl. With no warning the slim blond found her back on the mattress and a grinning lunatic above her, tickling her mercilessly.

"Get off!" This came through a squeal.

"What am I?" The barrage never stopped.

"Cute?" A raised eyebrow and a leer accompanied her response.

The compact youth couldn't resist and lowered herself to the waiting lips of the other girl. Her bare torso brushed against the linen of the other girl's shirt creating goose-bumps on her skin. When she drew back both were flushed and breathless. The shorter girl rolled onto her side and propped up on her elbow she looked down at the other girl.

"You're very good at that, for a kid!" She received a swat on her abdomen.

"You're only eighteen, Miss High and Mighty. That's only four yeas older than me. It's not exactly a huge gap. Anyway, I should be good at it, you give me a lot of practice, Jordan!"

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"Jordan? What have you done with her?" The rage was clear in the sixteen year olds eyes.

"Sedition is a crime, SLAVE! You should have learned your lesson. We beat you to within an inch of your life and you carry on. Physical punishment obviously has no effect on you, seeing as you're gladiator scum, so you leave us no choice! Rebellion is unacceptable. The servant girl has paid the price for her dalliances with you!" The warrior's face glazed over with pain. "To stop you from creating this sort of debacle again we are taking your voice. You will never speak without the permission of a master. Do you understand Rebel?" A mute nod. "Do it!"

She screamed, "Jordan!"

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"Jordan!"

The scream wrenched Hunter from the nightmare. It echoed from her throat and around the empty barracks, ringing in her ears.


	5. Chapter 5

The clicking of computer keys sounded like the feet of a thousand cockroaches moving through the room. It reverberated on itself, becoming increasingly oppresive in the eerily quiet room. The monitor provided the only light, casting ghoulish shadows on the planes of the user's face. In this pale, sickly glow the writer's skin seemed sunken and emaciated. The eyes glowed with a feral light.

Pictures scrolled across the screen, occasionally being annotated by fevered hands. All of the pictures focused on the same group of people. Dark haired blue eyed woman and a man caste in shades of brown filled the majority of the photographs. There were also a handful of pictures of three small children. The hand on the keyboard continued to scroll forward until the watcher reached a new cache of pictures, these featuring people that were unknown to the watcher. They were obviously dangerous and began to appear in the background of all the family pictures and those of the individuals. They had broken the rules. Bodyguards were unacceptable. They had been left alone while the watcher prepared the next move in this game, but this act must be punished.

The chair was abruptly pushed from the table. Sliding backwards until it hit the wall as the watcher stood and stormed out of the room. A red caste behind the dead eyes and a new plan forming behind the ghoulish visage.

*********

Phoenix sat in Wolf's lap and buried her head in the crook of his shoulder, enjoying the chance to be with her husband and have some privacy. The couple knew they were lucky. Not only had they been bought together, but they worked almost the same shifts so that they got a good deal of time together off duty. They often just sat and talked.

"I'm worried." Wolf's arms tightened around her waist, holding her snuggly to his chest.

"What about, Matt?" She smiled sweetly as she asked. The feel of her lover's name on her tongue was special because she was the only one who used it.

"Hunter isn't taking this well. I talked to her a few days ago and she started to get very angry. She told me that I didn't know anything about her and that some things I couldn't. She scared the crap out of me. I think that perhaps Miss Prince has a reason to keep her distance." His face was pensive as he spoke.

Phoenix couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You can't mean that! You've known her since she was a kid. Sure she's dangerous, but we all are. You have to trust her. She needs your belief."

"You're right Morgan." He rubbed his forehead. "I just have to get used to this life we're living. It's just weird to have this level of freedom and lack of discipline. That was my whole life for as long as I could remember."

"I know, love." She leaned up and forward to press a kiss to his temple. "I hear the others coming. It must be dinner-time. I think it's Savage's turn at dinner tonight. That'll be fun, Hunter and Savage eye-balling each other all night."

"Now who is worrying about nothing then?" The two grinned at each other and shared a soft kiss before the door banged open on its hinges.

"Yes boys and girls we're home!" The loud and boisterous voice of Grizzly echoed through the room.

"You guys are spending way too much time with those ankle-biters." This disparaging remark came from Snake who, as always, looked cool and collected even as his eyes twinkled with glee.

The group began its usual routine of joking and laughing. Their frivolity would be interspersed with some seriousness when the mood set in. They ate the meal that was prepared for them in the main house, while sitting on benches around a slick metal table. It was simple fare but it was always good and contained all of the supplements that their enhanced physiology required to maintain their musculature.

After they ate, as was the norm they would sit around and play cards or watch the single small monitor which they had been given. This hour of inactivity allowed digestion before they began to train, preventing cramps. Tonight they were playing cards. They never settled on one game and often would drift between poker, jinn and black-jack.

"Tonight I feel lucky!"

"We really don't want to know what goes on between you and Meg at night, Shep!" Snake's quip sent the two larger men into fits of giggles.

"You two are way to camp too be as big as you are."

"Hay we're babysitters now, we can be as juvenile and camp as we want and we don't have to prove ourselves to anyone!" Polar's tongue stuck out just to emphasize his point.

"Yeah, yeah. Less talk more cards!" Meg smirked.

"Gimme two."

**********

The phone slid from nerveless fingers. It bounced on the carpeted floor, creating a muffled thud when it came to a stop. The blood drained from Douglas's face as he turned and looked between his wife and his in-laws, who had formed a loose circle around him.

"What did they say?" Salvatore took control.

"I...I couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman. The voice was distorted, but the threat was real clear. We've broken some rule and now we're going to pay. He said something about the bodyguards." Sweat had broken out across his brow and upper lip.

"Oh God," the strangled whisper escaped Francesca. Tears began to well in her eyes and make silver paths along her cheeks.

"This is becoming quite ridiculous."

"You're right, Darla. We need to tap the phone and make sure all of our mail is intercepted. We cannot risk a bomb. I think Hunter should sleep in your room, Fran, be with you at all times. This is obviously some crazed fan." Salvatore turned to Douglas. "You should keep them in your room also. I'll contact your brothers to make sure they are secure and then call the police and let them know what's happening. Get them to step up their enquiries." His eyes softening, he turned to his daughter. "Go to bed, Princess. Hunter, protect her, please."

The tall woman nodded dumbly and slowly, lethargically shuffled from the room. Hunter strode purposefully behind her, her face set in stone. As they made their way up the stairs Francesca moved towards each child's bedroom. The girls had been watched by Phoenix since dinner in the room that they shared and Terry was watched over by Wolf. Each of her babies was peacefully asleep, blissfully unaware of the pain their parents felt.

Below them Salvatore turned once more to his son-in-law. "What else did they say? All of it, Douglas!"

"The guy was insane! Started to rant about the attention the family gets and the adoration. How would we like it if the children weren't perfect anymore. Then about marking Fran and spoiling her. Even started to go into detail about disfiguring them. I am so scared, sir." Tears began to run down his face, I don't want to die!

Believing the tears were for his family and not for fear about his own existence, Darla wrapped him in her arms and began to croon soft words into his tan ear. Salvatore walked towards the bureau and poured himself and the other two people in the room a scotch. He took it to them and picked up the phone from the floor. He moved to his leather chair and began his seemingly endless list of calls. It would be a long night.

**********

The watcher sat back on the sofa and brought the beer to smirking lips. The voice distorter lay on one raised thigh, the cell phone on the other. Tonight was a good night for games. Raising the video remote from its place on the sofa cushion, a large hand pressed play. A tall dark haired-women filled the screen, crooning about love and forgiveness.


	6. Chapter 6

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

"Go way... I'm sleeping."

"Well I'm awake!"

The dark girl propped her head up on her elbow and looked down at the peaceful face of her friend. The sun was high and the rays danced off the surface of the water and made dappled patterns of the other child's face as they struggled through the canopy of leaves. The lights hid the brown and green bruise marking the right side of the small face like camouflage. The darker child gleefully pinched the snub nose of the other girl closed. With a wheeze and a splutter the reclining girl opened green eyes and glared upwards.

"What!"

"Answer my question!"

"Don't want to!"

"Do you want to be seven?"

"You've been listening to my dad again haven't you?"

"Answer my question!" The blue eyed girls voice was becoming louder and louder.

"I'm just fooling with you Chess. I want to be our PA." A big smile followed her words.

"What's a PA do?"

"I dunno but your dad's gets to spend loads of time with him."

"Cool!" The dark haired girl laid back down.

"Hay, what about you?"

"I'm going to be a star!"

**********

The pulsing beat of the music filled the room, bouncing off the walls and feeding on itself. Francesca immersed herself in the music, feeling it travel through her body as she watched her choreographer intently. She began to sway and writhe to the music, soon the bodies of the dancers became a blur of synchronised motion. The two tall bodies, one blond the other brunette, moved with a feline grace under the watchful eye of the tiger at the back of the room, seemingly performing for an audience of one.

After hours of almost ceaseless activity both bodies shone with sweat and glowed with vitality. Clapping from the open French doors of the gymnasium drew both athletes attention and caused them both to smile a quick greeting to Rodrigo Prince before falling back into step. As the music began to slow the lithe blond man called the session to an end, his wide smile and shinning eyes letting his student know that her performance was excellent. Rodrigo walked towards them in time to catch the end of the choreographers words.

"...fantastic today. Your fitness level is way up, the routines in the videos for the new album should be the sharpest yet. How did you manage to get even fitter." He playfully nudged.

"I have to admit that I've been watching how our new bodyguards train and I've been adapting it to my own needs." Francesca looked inordinately pleased with herself over this little revelation.

"Well just keep doing what your doing. Nice to see you again Rod." He shook the bigger mans hand. He looked towards the lone figure in the corner, intent on every move that affected the woman beside him, and nodded in acknowledgement. It was not returned. "I'll see you in a couple of days Fran."

"See you Thursday Daniel." The dancers moved to opposite sides of the room and entered their respective shower rooms. Hunter followed her mistress while Rodrigo made his way towards one of the garden's many benches to wait for his sister.

Moments later he watched Daniel exit the building and waved to the man as he made his way to the path that would take him the front of the house. He relaxed back into the wood and stretched his legs out on the grass. His arms spread across the back of the bench on either side, fingers idly tapping the wood as he waited less than patiently for his sister. He had always been the type of child who would fidget, and although now a grown man he still could never sit totally still. 

Ten minutes passed before Francesca walked from the building into the vibrant sunlight. She smiled as she saw the sprawling form of her big brother, the faint breeze ruffling his dark hair. The smile that he caste her way was dazzling and not for the first time she understood why so many women fell for him, and why so many foolishly married him. He was already well on his way to ending his second marriage and yet still seemed as carefree as when he was an adolescent. She envied that, but did not begrudge her brother his lifestyle, she loved him too much for that. As she sat next to her brother, with his arm around her shoulders she felt loved and secure.

Hunter moved away from the reclining couple. She stood behind them, close enough to still protect her ward, but not within hearing range of a private discussion. She was becoming more at one with her role as a guardian, and realised that the free required more privacy than the indentured. From her vantage she had a perfect view of any potential routes of attack, the pair would be safe.

"So," concerned eyes turned towards a pale face. "You talking to me now?"

"Sure."

"Well I thought I better check, you weren't exactly too pleased to see me and Nate after that wacko called." Before Francesca could interrupt he placed his fingers over her lips. "I know you were pissed off that we went behind your back, but we really didn't choose Dick-Head Dougie over you. You have to believe that we love you. Hell, your the only stable female relationship that I have ever had!" He tightened is hold around her shoulders and she smiled softly up at him.

"I know Ro, but I was so upset."

"You had anymore threats? Dad hasn't said anything but it's been over three weeks since that last call." His usualy animated face was sober.

"Nothing, and that makes me more afraid than the threats. It's so ominous, it makes me feel constantly on edge. I should have apologised to you and Nate because the slaves are a godsend. At least I know that the children are safe." Her voice bagan to falter and Rodrigo realised it was time to move away from talk of the stalker.

"How are things going between you and your guard?" He had been concerned with Francesca's obvious distaste about the slaves, and especially the great warrior that they had chosen for her.

She lowered her voice further to ensure that Hunter could not possibly hear her. "I gave her a chance, like Papa said I should. I wish I could say it was because I was a bigger person and put aside my prejudice, but I'd be lying. A few days before...that phone call...I saw her playing with the children. She was so gentle and patient with them. I've tried to make our relationship better. I don't know if it's working, she's just so reticent." A soft sigh punctuated this statement.

"What have you tried?" He was really interested in his sisters change of heart.

"I turned off the vocal inhibitor the day after I watched her and the children. I thought that it might make her interact with me."

"And? What did she say?"

"That's just it, she hasn't said a word. She still signs to the other guards. I don't think that the remote works. I feel really bad about it, she'll be a mute forever because of what they did to her." She raised her hand and rubbed her temples to forestall the start of one of her regular headaches. "I guess I stopped thinking of her as an animal."

"That's a good thing Fran, trust me, thing will get better. It only been four months and maybe she's still feeling displaced." He grew concerned as he noticed the paler of his sisters skin as the exercise induced blush receded. "Fran, are you alright, you look a little sick?"

"It's nothing. I think I just worked too hard. Met any nice girls lately?"

**********

Wolf walked through the gate to the slaves stable and found himself confronted by the grim faces of Savage and Polar. They were huddled in the doorway to the living room, apparently trying to look in without loosing a limb. Wolf was amused by the spectacle, and was about to ask what was going on when a loud crashing sound came from the sleeping quarters, drawing even his attention through the door. He turned back to the other two men, he needed answers. A slave going berserk could be punished with death.

"What the hell is going on?" His voice was low and controlled.

"She has gone off the deep end, that's what's going on! I told all of you that this would happen, she's a fuckin' psycho! Nobody listens to me!" Savage said with smug certainty.

"Thanks for the psychological profile. Now any idea why she's gone nuts?" Exasperation was clear in his voice.

"Hello? That's why she's a psycho, she doesn't need a motive!"

"You haven't asked her have you?" Wolf folded his arms across his chest and glared at his two comrades. Polar squirmed under his stare.

"We were going to ask her what was wrong when she came in, looking sort of down. But...um...she started to throw her stuff in a sack, and get really twitchy. Before we could really talk she was throwing stuff around and we ran for it." The big man looked like a frightened little boy.

"Thanks Polar. You two stay out here, I'll go and see what is going on." He composed himself and strode resolutely towards the closed door of the sleeping rooms.

Inside the room was in disarray, the beds stripped and overturned, the table smashed into splinters. Hunter stood with her back to the door visibly shaking with rage. He walked towards her slowly and stopped several feet away, not wanting to be close enough for her to strike.

"What's wrong, Hunter?"

She took a deep, noisy breath and turned to face her friend. Her face was stony and her body rigid, lines of stress creased her brow. Wolf at first thought that no explanation would be forthcoming as her hands continued to clench and unclench by her sides. Her hands shook with emotion as she began to gesture towards her brother in arms.

"I thought I was getting somewhere." The gestures were sharp and fast, almost frenzied.

"Somewhere?" He was honestly confused.

"With the 'Princess'!" She began to pace as she gestured, making it increasingly difficult for Wolf to understand what she was signing.

"What has she done?"

"I am no longer allowed to sleep here. Now she wants me to sleep in one of the walk-in closets in her room! What am I, some sort of animal!"

"You could look at it that way, Hunter." Wolf tried to quell her ire. "Maybe she's trying to show you that she feels safe with you. She wants you around more."

"Look, this means I won't get to see any of you off duty!"

"You don't exactly see us now, you just sleep in our presence," he reasoned.

She had began to calm as she mulled over the tall man's words. "I see your point. Trust me I won't go off at a freeman again, I remember too well what happened last time." She walked towards her bag, which only contained the clothes that she worked in, and hoisted it to her shoulder. She walked from the room and the stable without a backward glance for the three men. Brushing past Snake as he walked into the compound.

"Hunter Okay?"

"No idea, Wolf will fill you in. Where's Douglas?" Savage prepared to go on duty.

"I left him in the nursery with the children, Grizzly and Meg are there to watch him. I thought I better come and get when you were so late."

"Cool, see ya!"

The bald headed man walked into the living area to find Wolf talking to Polar, whose face was troubled. He sat down with the pair, around the large dinning table. "You two going to tell me what happened earlier."

"Hunters upset," volunteered Polar.

"I thought I heard her cry out in her sleep," Snake was thoughtful.

"You heard what?!"

"Oh, you didn't know? What's she pissed off about then?"

The rest of the table sat in stunned silence.

********

The drunken figure lurched down the hallway muttering obscenities. It was closely followed by a weasel faced man wearing a smirk. The duo made their way slowly towards one of the plush bed-chambers of the estate where the drunk could sleep it off. The more alert of the two reached the door first and opened it, ushering the other man in. As he was about to follow, he found himself pushed back into the corridor and ordered to stand guard and let no-one in. Savage turned his back to the closing door, slumping against it when it clicked shut.

Douglas leaned against the wall, his head pounding. He was angry. No, he was beyond angry. He was furious! How dare his own wife go behind his back at a time like this! She was supposed to run everything past him, he was meant to know her whereabouts at all times! She had no right to put herself in the line of fire, she was his. Even with that thing to protect her she was still vulnerable.

His irrational thoughts began to grow and build until he found himself in a frenzy, he needed to vent his anger on something. Or someone. His eyes fell on the door leading to his wife's room. He smiled sadistically as he lurched towards it. He fell back on his favourite way to vent his displeasure at his spouse. He took a deep breath as he reached the door, trying to steady himself. He quietly pushed the door inwards.

He padded softly across the carpet without creating a sound on the deep, plush carpeting. He could see her, laying in a pool of moonlight in the centre of the bed. She had her face turned to the window, with it's partially opened curtains. The rest of her was shielded by a thin red sheet that rose and fell with her breath as she laid on her stomach, blissfully unaware.

A new wave of anger crashed over Douglas as he watched her peaceful form. He lost the last of his self control as he stood touching the side of the bed and leapt on the still body. Terrified blue eyes snapped open as he began to rain heavy blows down over her back. She could feel her kidneys taking the brunt of the attack. As he began to snarl abuse at her she realised the identity of her attacker and fear turned to resignation.

Douglas suddenly found himself ripped from his wife's body and hurtling across the room, only coming to a stop when he hit the wall. He sat, for a moment, dazed by the sudden turn of events. Head spinning from a combination of too much alcohol and the blow to the head, it took him several minutes to realise the nature of his wife's protector. Before him, looking like some sort of avenging angel, stood Hunter. Clad in only a white vest and boxer shorts, touched on only one side by the moonlight the other in relief she struck fear into his heart. Until he remembered who he was.

"You'll pay for that, Slave! What is she doing here at this Francesca, she should be in the stables." His voice was commanding and hard as he dragged himself from the carpets embrace. "Well, answer me!"

No sooner had the words left his lips than he found himself pressed to the wall by the throat. He couldn't struggle, so powerful was the body that he now found crushing him. She was so close that he could feel the growl as it emanated from her chest. The warriors eyes were cold, dead, as she stared at him. He felt a cold sweat form on his top lip as he saw that look, totally void of emotion. She glanced away from him for a second, much to his relief, to look at the huddled figure at the head of the bed. Her gaze almost immediately fell back to him. A new look fills her unnatural eyes, this time it is rage. Douglas' mouth takes over from his brain as he tries to save himself.

"I can have you killed for this! You won't get away with killing your master again! Put me down and I mightonly let them send you to a research institute, it's the best you could hope for!" Her grip lessened for just a moment before she tightened it to almost choking intensity and replied to his threats.

"Youare not my master!" The his was quiet but dripped with loathing. "Francesca Prince owns me. I am ordered to protect her from all harm. You have tried to damage her. Get out and I won't kill you." She pushed his trembling form to the connecting door. "Try it again and I'll rip your arm off and beat you to death with it!" He bolted from the room upon hearing her final words.

The rigid form of the bodyguard moved to the hastily closed door and locked it from the inside to prevent his re-entry. As she turned to walk back into her new sleeping quarters she caught the eye of the woman on the bed. Her face was pale and her eyes were red as she looked at Hunter with gratitude and respect for the first time. The compact fighter could also see surprise on her mistresses face and could easily tell why.

"Formica is the secret of the universe." She said this with a totally straight face as she walked to the huge closet.

"What?" Came the stunned response.

"That's what I have to say. Hope it was worth letting me talk." She disappeared behind the sliding door of the cupboard.

Francesca sat for a while, bemused. She smiled as she realised that, in her own way, Hunter had both been trying to be funny and say thank you. The smile slipped as the events of the past ten minutes overwhelmed her as her mind tried to process that fact that she had been saved from her husbands whim. She had never thought that he would get so physical in her parents house, he had truly sunk to new depths. Suddenly the idea of having a bodyguard sleeping in her room seemed like her best idea in a long time.

**********

Sweat poured off of the body standing in the hazy morning sunlight. The rays seemed to caress the toned skin, highlighting muscles and the fine blond hair covering corded forearms. The black tattoos, clearly visible from under the sleeveless t-shirt, seemed to absorb the light and writhe above the muscles like living things. Francesca found herself transfixed by the athletic movements of the slave. She had just finished her combat exercises and walked towards the bench-press.

Francesca had cut short her own programme when she became too distracted by the other women. She watched her now as she laid down on the leather surface and positioned herself under the bar. One of the other slaves was their to spot for her, Francesca couldn't tell who it was or how much was being lifted, she was focused solely on the warrior. She stared as the motion of her arms made the muscles almost seem to slide as the bar went up and then bunch as the bar came down. Her eyes roamed the body and saw the stomach muscles clench through the translucent, sweat covered shirt.

A single bead of sweat broke away from her hairline and began to travel away from the slick hair. It moved across her temple and found itself captured by a thin scar on her cheek, creating a path for it down to her jaw. As it reached the end of it's journey it fell from the clenched jaw and shattered on the bench.

**********

"Why are you so skinny? You eat more than my Papa's horse!" The chubby girl stormed.

"I dunno. I guess I run around a lot." The other girl just shrugged.

"So do I!" She was feeling indignant now.

"You'll get skinny when you get older. We're only little. Anyway, your pretty and smart, do I have to be skinny and sporty!" This came with a charming smile.

A shy smile spread across her. "Your pretty too."


	7. Chapter 7

Bodies packed the miniscule space, shoulder-to-shoulder. The smell of cologne and perfume mixed in the air, sickly-sweet in their intensity. Hunter found herself overwhelmed by the close proximity of so many strangers. She had positioned herself at the back of the elevator, ensuring that her back was not vulnerable to attack. He eyes scanned the enclosure, flicking from person to person, catching the occasional glance which would quickly move away at seeing her scowl.

In the cramped quarters, plummeting rapidly downwards, the guard was forced to stand close to her owner. Francesca stood with her back to Hunter, the fabric of her silk blouse brushing the shorter woman’s chest. Hunter could feel the heat coming off the dark woman as she fidgeted with excitement at being out of the house. Such intimate contact with the woman who, until yesterday, had only looked at her with total distain was disconcerting. It brought up emotions in her that she had not felt for a long time, emotions that she was quick to bury under years of pain. Francesca appeared oblivious to her slaves discomfort, focused only on her goal of the day, shopping.

Francesca was glad to be out of the house. She could, for at least a day, be free from her husbands prying eyes and her fathers smothering love. She could be alone and totally herself today. Well, not completely alone, her shadow was by her side to watch over her safety. After Douglas’ attack she had began to look at the blue haired woman as her avenger rather than another jailer. Three days had passed and the pain in her kidneys had lessened enough for her to leave the house and reward her dark protector. She too was acutely aware of how close the other woman stood inside the metallic box. With every breath she was aware of breasts brushing her back through sheer fabric.

The lift bounced to a stop, Hunters stomach flipped at the unfamiliar sensation. She sighed in relief as the doors hissed open expelling the crushing bodies. Expecting to step out into a sparsely populated area she felt a sudden moment of panic as the shopping mall was revealed to her. All around her there were people, walking, running, standing in idle conversation. Used to an economy of motion and the quiet of captivity, Hunter was momentarily stunned before regaining her senses and striding out behind her master.

Walking in the taller woman’s shadow, Hunter immediately noticed a change in her walk and the poise with which she held herself. Gone was the dutiful daughter, polite and eager to please. Gone was the wife, submissive and cowed. The person before her was new, she walked with a bounce to her step and a swagger to her hips. She seemed to watch the crowd taking n the details as if committing them to memory. Hunter realised that this was Francesca Rose, superstar. This was the woman who sold millions and who was worshiped by them.

Francesca was looking forward to her meeting. Gazing around the mall she could make out the figures of the security people MagPie Recording had laid on for her. Hardly unobtrusive, the big men in tailored suits littered each exit creating a familiar atmosphere for the brunette. She briefly turned her attention to the figure behind and to her right. The discomfort was clear on the slaves face as person after person brushed or jostled past her. Francesca found herself grinning as she wondered how the warrior would react to the barrage of fans that she knew would descend on them at any moment. All it would take was one person looking at the casually dressed woman the right way and the hysteria would start. Each store knew that she was on her way and would be emptied before her arrival so that she could shop in safety. She was almost buzzing with excitement.

As though reading her mind, a young girl walked out of a nearby record store and locked eyes with her idol. Unable to tear her eyes away, she elbowed her friend in the side and pointed in Francesca’s direction with a trembling finger. The second girl let out a loud squeal of excitement attracting the attention of the other patrons of the store that the star was about to pass. As one the shoppers surged to the entrance and the site of the commotion. The site of the singer galvanized the crowd and as one they rushed towards her.

Francesca was ready for the onslaught, as were the hired security who quickly covered her position, Hunter was not. Surrounded first by a circle of suited bodies and then by a screaming mob, Hunter was totally overwhelmed. She knew the men were security, she’s been briefed. She knew people would want autographs, she wasn’t a fool. But never in her life had she been caged in this fashion. Put in looked rooms, squeezed into small spaces, but never closed in on all sides by people. Isolation she could deal with, this was overwhelming. Francesca was once again pushed close to her chest, arms were reaching towards them through the wall of bodies. The slave was becoming increasingly aware of the cool metal of the gun at the small of her back, her palm itching to feel the steel in her grasp. As her arm snaked around to draw the firearm the taller woman tilted her head and began speaking.

"Hunter, relax," Francesca whispered. "It’s like standing in front of a stone pillar. They don’t mean any harm, they’re just over excited. It really is exciting for me. We’ll be out of here soon."

Hunter was as shocked by the reassurance from her mistress as she had been by the entire situation. This week was turning out to be too strange for the taciturn warrior to handle. Too many changes in such a short time. It seemed as though the younger woman was making an effort to see her as a human being. The big question for Hunter, was why?

"Hi everybody," Francesca called to the crowd, who quieted immediately. "I haven’t got a lot of time today, but I will sign for the children." Almost the at the speed of light sixteen children between eight and thirteen appeared at the front of the crowd.

Smiling and laughing at the stories of each child and giving every individual her attention, she was a vision. Hunter had definitely never seen the woman this alive and engaged in an activity. Sure, she gave all her love and devotion to her own children, but this was different. This was a woman filled with energy. This was the captivating little girl who had charmed food out of cook. This was not Hunter’s, Francesca. This was Rhani’s, Chess. Hunter had believed that everything of the girl she had known was gone, leaving only an empty, sad woman who sleep walked through her life. Hunter felt her mind begin to spin out of control, too much was happening to her, old and new sensations combating with her painfully crafted persona.

Before she had time to sink further into her revelry she saw the last child get their autograph and the crowd begin to disperse. The security guards moved off to created a looser perimeter as the two women made their way through the masses. Francesca led the way with confidence, smiling as they passed ogling shoppers. They were headed towards the most upscale area of the colossal mall, the restaurant district. This was where corporate business people wined and dined their customers. No entry without reservation, no reservation without the right credit limit. This was where stars met their agents and talked with their record labels.

**********

"You have got to be kidding me?" The dark haired woman wheezed out through her laughter.

"No, seriously, there she was spread across this guys car and there were paparazzi everywhere!" The agent sat back and took another long swallow from his glass of wine.

"How does that woman still have an agent?" Francesca was wiping the tears from her eyes.

"She only works with people who really do believe that all publicity is good publicity!" This came from the record label executive sitting across from them. "Well, we’re almost done here. I’ve put through all of the changes to your contract that you asked for. We can’t wait for you next platinum album..."

"I get the hint. I go into the recording studio to lay down the last three tracks next week and then it’s all yours."

"Excellent." Looking down at his watch, a sincere smile spread across his lips. "I’ve got another appointment. It has really been good to see you again Francesca. Give my best to Douglas, a shame he couldn’t make the meeting today." He let out a small laugh. "That has to be a first."

Francesca rose with him, leaning across the table to kiss the young man on the cheek. "You have no idea." As he walked away her gaze flashed to her bodyguard, standing quietly in the corner, which did not go unnoticed by her agent.

"Why isn’t Doug here?" The man’s dark eyes bore into hers.

Francesca looked at the thin, scruffy man sitting next to her. He was the antithesis of what a singers agent should looked like. Jake’s brown hair looked like it hadn’t seen a comb in a week and his clothes, although not dirty, could stand to make the acquaintance of an iron. That was why she had begged Doug to let her hire him, he was unconventional and over time he had proved himself to be a good friend.

"He finally realised that I don’t require a babysitter." She couldn’t meet his sympathetic eyes and instead looked at her fingers as they idly traced patterns on the white linen of the tablecloth.

"You let your thug smack him then?"

Her head shot up with such force that Jake thought she might snap something. Her eyes were wide and she seemed to be holding her breath. Her jaw was moving up and down, but not a word left her lips. Jake couldn’t help himself, the picture before him was too funny, and he started to laugh softly.

"That’s a yes then?"

Once she was able to think clearly, Francesca levelled a baleful glare at him. "You take liberties. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t fire you for even suggesting that!"

"Where would you find another agent as handsome and debonair?" His eyebrows waggled manically.

Francesca’s laughter peeled out across the diners in the crowded restaurant.

**********

When the two women left the restaurant Hunter realised that her mistress had been right. The crowds of shoppers in the mall had dispersed considerably. She began to follow the taller women, behind and to the side, as she had done before, when suddenly the other woman stopped. If not for her fast reflexes Hunters momentum would have led to the couple being sprawled across the floor. Fortunately she managed to pull up short of hitting her owner. A puzzled look must have settled over her face as the brunette turned towards her.

"Hunter...um...I haven’t really thanked you for what you did." The younger woman looked like a nervous teenager asking for a date. "I’d like you to pick out some clothes, as a reward. I noticed that all of the other guards have clothes for leisure time and all you have are those suits. I know you don’t really have any free time, but when I relax, you should be able to as well." She looked at the other woman from under lowered lashes, feeling suddenly shy.

The shorter woman looked like a deer in headlights. Her face had gone slack and her eyes were as wide as Francesca had ever seen. Slightly worried she waved her hand in front of the blue eyes, trying to snap the other woman back into the present. When that failed to garner a response she raised her hand to touch the scared cheek when a lightning fast hand captured her wrist.

"You alright." Francesca bit back her fear of this powerful creature.

"Yeah...Sorry." She quickly released the other woman’s hand. "Nobody’s given me a reward before." The blue haired figure looked lost.

"Well, it’s about time then isn’t it?" With that Francesca began to walk towards the shops, Hunter falling into step behind her.

After an hour Hunter felt like they had been shopping forever. How anybody could think that this was pleasurable was totally beyond her, it was more like a battle. Francesca was like a general; organising their destination, planning their purchases, trying on clothes with speed and not selecting one bad outfit. Hunter was truly amazed by her approach to this mundane activity. this was yet another facet of the other woman which she had not been privy to before. Francesca had bought clothes and jewellery for herself, but Hunter hadn’t seen anything she wanted.

Francesca had also been talking, a lot. She was having fully fledged discussions with her slave. Granted Hunter’s responses had been brief, but she really did seem to be engaged by the other woman. She was funny and captivating, even to an audience who had been treated so badly by her. They were on their way to the last of the stores, Francesca explaining that she was an Emancipation-ist and that she really regretted her recent actions, when they passed the store. Hunter’s eye was caught by a pair of pants in the window of the small establishment.

"I want them!" Her voice was filled with excitement.

Francesca turned her attention to the window to be greeted by the site of a pair of leather biker pants. They were black and padded at the knee and shin. She looked at the rest of the clothes displayed in the window and realised that this was a retro clothes store. She motioned the other woman forward and followed her into the shop. It reeked of leather, rubber and cotton due to the piles of pants in these materials and the racks of jeans and t-shirts that could be seen in the large room. Francesca was amused at the look of awe on the other woman’s face.

"You can choose three pairs of pants and five t-shirts."

"Really?"

"Don’t question your mistress, now go and choose, we have to be home in an hour."

Fifteen minutes later found Hunter the proud owner of two pars of blue jeans and the biker leathers as well as two sports bra-style tops, two cotton shirts and a skin-tight rubber vest. She was more content than she had been in a very long time. It was as surprising as much for what happened as for who it happened with. The walk back to the car was spent in companionable silence as the pair thought about the day.

**********

They had found out a lot about each other on their little trip and both were still thinking about the revelations as Francesca drove them home. Although not terrible talkative yet, Francesca hoped that her bodyguard would come out of her shell, given some nurturing. Her choice of purchases and her obvious joy in them had spoken volumes on their own. She turned to speak to her companion in time to see a spasm pass through the slouched figure.

Hunters body was rocked by the pain and suddenly she had no control. Spasm after spasm passed through her deadened limbs. The only sensation left to her deactivated nerves was the pain being inflicted on them. In her peripheral vision she could see the panic on her mistresses face as she tried to concentrate on the road. Unable to raise her head, Hunter knew that the other woman needed information.

"My chip," she gasped. "It’s active...Can’t move."

The dark woman suddenly went very still as her hands clasped the wheel tighter. The air in the car almost crackled with the force of her anger. She knew that she was the only person with access to the other woman’s punishment controller. Only one person would dare to go into her room and rifle through her belongings. She put her foot down and sped towards home.

Towards Douglas.


	8. Chapter 8

CLICK, another moment captured in time, frozen for posterity. Frozen like ice, cold and unfeeling soaking into the pores of any who wonder too close. Cold and empty like the eyes behind the lens. Sounds, so close to those of a machine gun, fired from the camera as picture after picture was captured. The end result would be almost a flick-book, enough images to seem animated. The photographers intent was not so pure.

The three children, held captive by the viewfinder, were blissfully unaware of the photographers scrutiny. Summer was a good time to be a kid in the park. The weather was hot and the sun was high as the siblings played soccer on the grass. Terrance had stripped off his shirt and was using it as one half of their impromptu gaol, a young sapling providing the other. Polar stood in goal, smirking at the children's antics as Becca and Shell tackled their big brother by jumping on his back. Grizzly stood off to the side, watching over the park while his brother watched over their charges. They were as alert as a pair of Doberman hounds. A shame then that their sense of smell was not as great, a telescopic lens keeps you well out of sight.

The lens zoomed in on each child, focusing in on their individual faces and capturing a little of their personality. First was Terrance, eight years old and full of little boy pomp. His dark brown hair curling around his face and his cheeks were flushed. He ran around with seemingly limitless energy and the devil in him. He was continually pulling faces at the his sisters, tongue out, eyelids folded back. Beside his little sisters he looked huge, tall for his age thanks to the combined genes of his mother and father.

The twins shared their brothers colouring and Rochelle's hair had the same waves while Rebecca's was poker straight. Rochelle was a little chubby and spiteful, pulling her brothers hair to get him to give her the ball. She was also loud and tried to take charge, even though her brother was three years older. Her twin was much smaller, thin, delicate and fragile. She played with the same energy but without the competitive edge.

Long fingered hands carefully laid the camera onto the grass as the tall figure sat down in the grass. Pulling forward the heavily laden backpack an arm snaked in and drew out several manila envelopes, sliding out the contents onto the springing grass. The title of each file clearly visible: TERRANCE ROSE, ROCHELLE ROSE, REBECCA ROSE.

**********

Pasting threatening letters was an art. It took skill and precision. A flare for the dramatic and the sublime. Combinations of colour and the style of text had to be carefully selected. Amateurs and recipients though that it was simply random, an ill conceived disguise which bore the message. They didn't realise that it was the message.

The razor sharp scalpel felt cool through the creamy film of the latex gloves. Tools of the trade, a must have for anonymity. The magazine pages were spread across the polished surface, headlines screaming for attention. Like a surgeon assessing a patient, the first letter was carefully picked. Placing it with reverence on the cutting board, the first incision was made...

**********

The office was large, palatial even. The decor was tasteful, if a little cluttered. It was the work area of a man who valued his family. You could see it from the moment you walked through the lacquered oak door. Photographs of his children hung on the walls, drawings were framed and took the place of commissioned art, swimming certificates hung beside diplomas behind the wide desk.

The camera drank it in, tasting it like a fine wine. The man behind the room was captured in every nuance and colour. Detail upon detail building into the tapestry of a families life. When the intruder was satisfied with the artistic portion of the mission the camera was set aside and the information stage commenced.

Moving to the desk the dark figure moved into the leather chair, settling in the body moved sideways and opened the first of six draws, riffling through the contents. With a clear purpose files were removed, those of no consequence to the mission left untouched. A small pile of papers took up residence on the tabletop as the chair wheeled towards the file cabinet and the hunt continued. Within minutes the pile had trebled and the dark thief was ready to get out. White paper carefully hidden within the folds of a black shirt insured nobody would notice their departure.

The door clicked shut on an empty room. D. ROSE it's only comment on what had gone on behind it.

**********

Phone calls gave you a rush like letters never could. They took courage and strategy. No simple matter of dialling a number and speaking. The whole plan was location, location, location. You couldn't slip, you certainly couldn't use your home phone, that was suicide. Outside locations were the simplest, find an audio stall and send your message on a delay. By the time that the call is sent the sender is already home. The alternative was much more expensive, but could be achieved from the comfort of your own home.

The Micro-phone had replaced the old style cellular phones only ten years ago. They could be used with hands free adaptors or, with the right equipment, connected to a land line. The brain child of a teenage student, the concept was simple a pad, two inches high and one inch wide acted as the key pad. Highly touch sensitive and only half and inch thick. The cordless earpiece received the call and a sensitive microphone picked up responses. The pad was easy to store and the earpiece had been a huge hit, sweeping the market. Dialling from a standard phone simply meant patching the pad into the line. The Micro's were almost untraceable, but you had to rotate between more than one, just to be safe.

One must, of course, have a well rehearsed script. Hesitation would infer weakness, which in turn would not create fear, and that was the desired effect. The piece had to be read again and again until it fell like liquid from the tongue. The basic content of the text was always variations on the same themes; 'I've been watching them/you.' 'I'm going to kill you/them.' It was all about delivery.

Naturally the last order of business was to disguise your voice. Voice distortion was a thing of the past, with computers now powerful enough to create an original human voice. This was used for their AI, its hidden beauty was that you could hook it to the phone and it would alter your voice. No good terrorist should be without one.

The Micro pad felt like lumpy skin as the familiar number was dialled in...

**********

Town apartments were always desirable, none more than penthouses, and this was certainly a fine example of the breed. Taking up two entire levels the penthouse was an amazing construct, complete with roof garden and outside pool. Floor to ceiling windows decorated the family room an dining room, while in the other rooms they were three quarter length. The place was positively bathed in light.

A lone figure stood at the window, bathed in sunshine, casting a long shadow across the tiled floor. Mission accomplished. The bedrooms had been ransacked, the place was trashed. More was to be learned about the woman of the house by what was absent in her bedroom than what it contained. No wedding pictures, no love letters, no photographs of her husband. Only her children and her birth family. No love for herself, as though she gave and did not expect to receive. The only personal touch seemed to be the walls of gold and platinum discs, testament to a career in high gear.

Easy access was assured after the keys to their family home had been found in one of Doug's desk drawers. In and out was the plan, trash the place and trash it again. More psychological ploys would be pointless as they were staying at the estate. They had run in fear almost from the start, a testament to the power of fear.

Sipping the last of the red wine, salvaged from the carnage of broken glass and spilt liquor, the figure moved towards the door. No time to ponder what it would feel like to sleep on a four-poster bed in a multimillion dollar home.

**********

Click.

Duuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhh.

The dead receiver once again crashed to the floor from frozen fingers. The look of horror on Francesca's face was so extreme that Hunter's heart dropped to her knees. She didn't need to ask who had been on the line, that much was obvious, Hunter just wished that she could guard her owner from that. The calls had intensified and were coming almost daily. They were usually intercepted by Mr Prince or Mr Rose, but on rare occasions, like today, Francesca would pick up the handset out of habit.

Each call left the other woman in a near catatonic state as the voice on the other end threatened her life and the lives of her children in grizzly detail. Although still wary of her owner, Hunter was beginning to see that she was really a generous and caring woman pushed to the edge. Often the slave thought that the only thing keeping the darker woman from a nervous breakdown was her children, she was certainly teetering dangerously close to the edge. Her recent kindness had made Hunter resolve to protect the other woman form herself as much as she could. She had treated her badly, but so had countless others. For a little respect, Hunter was willing to forgive, at east a little.

She replaced the receiver and pushed the intercom button. "This is Hunter, that was our friendly nut. I'm with the Mistress. I think it was bad..."

"Thank you Hunter, look after my daughter. Does she need a nurse?" Darla's voice was filled with concern. Salvatore could be heard cursing in the background.

"No, thank you, ma'am. I think she'll be fine after some tranquillisers." She passed a concerned eye over the rapidly paling woman.

"Get to it then." Raged breathing. "Thank you." The line was dead.

Hunter turned to the taller woman, intent on steering her towards the stairs. This was becoming a familiar ritual. Get the body to the bedroom, t was like controlling a puppet. So accustomed was she to pushing the other woman that she was unprepared when Francesca crumpled to the floor in a feint. Concerned Hunter took the only resort open to her and hefted the other woman into her arms and proceeded towards the stairs, her cargo safe in her arms.


	9. Chapter 9

"Once upon a time..."

"Mama, that’s lame," griped the small boy.

"Yeah," piped up Rochel.

"Can Hunter tell us a story?" Rebecca turned trusting eyes towards the guard.

"Hunter probably doesn’t want to..."

"It’s alright." For the first time in years the guard felt shy. "Long ago, in a land far awa..."

"Awww, that’s Star Wars, Hunter!" Terrance began to pout. Foot stomping was becoming a real possibility.

"Um..." Francesca tapped a well manicured hand against her chin, deep in thought. "I’ve got it! Would you like me to tell you a story about some of the things I got up to when I was your age?" She raised an inquiring eyebrow.

"Really, Mama?" Rebecca’s eyes were shining.

"Yep. Now everybody get into bed." Three small whirlwinds scrambled under their bed covers. The beds were set out like a fan along one side of the nursery room creating an a semi circle into which Francesca pulled a rocking chair. Sitting up, each child could face their mother. "Is everybody ready?" One little hand raised. "Yes Becca?"

"Mama, can Hunter come and sit with me?" The little girl was so shy that it was almost painful.

Francesca tilted her head towards her warrior and looked for her response before she answered. In the three weeks since seeing the other woman writhe in agony, Francesca had begun to view the other woman as, if not a friend, then at least an ally. Her strong response to seeing the soldier in pain had surprised her and she had to repress a shudder as she recalled the horrific events of that day...

She watched, terrified, as spasm after spasm passed through the slouched form. The strong limbs jerked spastically in their wake and her head hung limply on her neck. Francesca knew that she shouldn’t panic, but she couldn’t help herself, she had never been in a situation like this and had no idea what she should do. She was about to pull the car off the road when Hunters voice broke into her thoughts.

"My chip," she gasped. "It’s active...Can’t move."

Francesca felt the blood freeze in her veins and clutched the steering wheel tightly in her fist, anchoring herself in the car. The air in the car almost crackled with the force of her anger. She knew that she was the only person with access to the other woman’s punishment controller. Only one other person would dare to go into her room and rifle through her belongings. She put her foot down and sped towards home. Douglas had gone too far this time. She would not let him torture this innocent who had become caught up in their twisted marriage through no fault of her own.

The drive seemed to take forever even with accelerator floored. Finally the house came into view, growing larger and larger every second as she flew down the driveway. She caste a nervous glance at the twitching figure in the passenger seat. Hunter’s pain had grown so severe that that she had finally passed out ten minutes ago, yet the effects could still be seen throughout her body. Francesca felt a wash of sympathy for the smaller woman who had no peace even in sleep.

The car came to a screaming halt outside the main doors of the huge house. Francesca leaped from the stationary vehicle and flew around to the passenger side, wrenching the door open. She leaned across the unconscious form and unsnapped the seatbelt, supporting Hunter’s shoulder to stop her from falling, face first, into the dashboard. The noisy entrance of the car had brought Salvatore to the window of his study. On seeing his daughter in such obvious distress, he ran to her, barrelling through the heavy doors and to her side.

Salvatore couldn’t believe what he saw as he approached the four-by-four. The tableau before him, in the open doorway was so unexpected. There stood his daughter, holding up the weight of the warrior and looking tenderly into the unconscious woman’s face. As he watched she attempted to lift the shorter woman out of the car, she had the other woman half way out when the weight became too much and her grip slipped. Salvatore reached forward quickly and grabbed the comatose woman around the waist and hefted her into his arms. He turned towards his wide-eyed daughter, her bodyguard cradled to his chest.

"Papa, please take her inside."

"Princess, what’s going on?"

"I need to find Douglas." She almost growled the words.

"He’s out back with the children, but..."

"Thanks. Please take her inside and call someone." Her father didn’t have the opportunity to respond as she stalked towards the back of the house.

When she turned the corner into the huge lawn used as the children’s play area she saw him. He was laughing as he swung Rochel around. He placed her small feet on the ground and straightened up, his eyes catching those of his seething wife. His smile dropped and his face took on an evil smirk. He purposefully strode to Francesca, out of the children’s earshot.

"Douglas, please come to the summerhouse." The words were bitten out, the tone strained. Douglas followed his distressed wife, his smirk growing wider as he did. Snake followed in their wake, watching over his master.

When they reached the wooden structure Douglas asked Snake to remain outside, as he entered and closed the door behind him. He turned to face his beautiful wife and really looked at her for the first time since she had arrived. Her eyes were dark and stormy and held a hardness that he had never seen before. He had seen her happy and lately he had seen the resignation in her eyes, this was definitely new. Her lips were pursed in a thin line and he could see a vain throbbing in her forehead as her fists clenched in time with it.

Smack! The slap to his face made him rock back on his heels. This was not his wife. He was waiting for Snake to burst in when Francesca was suddenly in his face, hands tightly clenched around his colour. She was breathing heavily in his face as they stood nose-to-nose.

"Give me Hunter’s remote!" He opened his mouth to deny her accusation. "Don’t even think it! Hand it over now."

On the outside of the door Snake had been ready to break through and intercede. He had been stopped in his tracks by Francesca’s words. That bastard had tortured his friend. He could suffer at the hands of his wife. Douglas had just lost the modicum of respect that the warrior held for him.

Within the closed quarters Doug handed the remote over and Francesca hastily switched it off, fumbling in her haste. She gazed back into his eyes and noticed the pink huge spreading across his cheek. In the pit of her stomach she felt something settle, this felt right. She should have done this years ago.

"She got what she deserved..." He knew it was a weak arguement at best in the face of his wife rage.

"Try anything like this again and I’ll encourage Hunter to rip you a new arse hole. Stay away from me. I suggest you move to different quarters, as far away from mine as you can get and still be in the same house would be good!" With these words Francesca stormed out of the wooden building feeling more triumph than she could ever remember.

"Mama, can Po and Griz come and listen two?" Francesca was snapped form her reverie by her sons voice.

"Sure, go to the next room and ask them." She smiled indulgently as he scrambled out of bed. She refocused on Hunter who was looking at her strangely. Francesca suddenly realised that Hunter must have answered her question and she had been so deep in her own thoughts that she’d missed it. Sheepishly she asked, "Is that a yes?"

"Yes." Hunter made her way to the little girls bed and sat with her back to the headboard and her feet stretched out. Like a limpet Becca attached herself to the muscular woman’s side and snuggled close. To Francesca’s surprise the warrior wrapped her arm around the child’s shoulders and held her gently.

The peaceful scene was broken when Terrence can charging back in followed by the two giants. The two big men settled themselves on the floor beside each bed. Polar sat beside Rochel and Grizzly with Terrance. It was show-time, as five pairs of expectant eyes turned to her. She launched into a story about one of Rhani and Chess’ more risky schemes, while she tried to process the apprehensive look that she had seen on Hunters face.

**********

Hunter sat awake in the dark of her ‘room’ trying to clear her thoughts. The huge walk-in closet was illuminated by the moon as it peeked through the blinds in the main room. The door was open, like always since the attack, so that she could get out fast. The interior of the cupboard was so dark that an intruder would be unable to spot her prone form unless they were looking for her and even then it would be difficult. She sat, cross legged, on a pile of blankets and thought about the nights events.

The story Francesca had told tonight had shaken her to the core. She had never imagined that the rich, cultured young woman would remember her childhood companion. They had been so young when they were separated and she had assumed that too many exciting things would have happened in the darker woman’s life for her to remember a servant’s daughter, no matter how close they had been. The obvious affection in the younger woman’s voice, as she related their exploits to her own children, had overwhelmed the warrior.

Ever since they had returned to the room and the lights had gone out, she could not draw her mind away from thoughts of the past. She tried not to think about the past, the memories were too bittersweet. Her parents had used her as a pacifier for their employers daughter and sold her into a life filled with pain and misery. Yet among the pain of her parents there was always a small black haired, blue eyed, child who had been her best friend - her Chess.

She had felt these memories and emotions begin to stir the moment she had stepped back onto the property where she had been born and raised. She had known that none of the Prince family would recognise her, her appearance had radically changed in the last twenty years. They had last seen her as a tall, waiflike, child with big green eyes and sun coloured hair. That was a long stretch from the short, heavily muscled woman covered in scars and tattoos whose hair and eyes were blue.

She had tried to stay aloof, and Francesca’s original treatment of her had made it easy. Rather than falling into any old habits, Hunter had become her usual difficult self. Most of her scars were reminders of her wilfulness and disobedience, things that she often found herself unable to control, as well as her mouth. Why could she never keep her mouth shut? She had been asking herself that since she was a child and eventually others had dealt with the problem for her.

She shifted her weight. Thinking like this wasn’t going to achieve anything, thinking about the past just made her regret her life more. All the happiness of her childhood burned brightly in her mind, casting everything since into shadow. Everything except Jordan. She had kept the young girl sane and replaced Rhani as her closest friend. She had filled a void that Hunter had never been able to fill again. When Jordan was taken from her she knew that happiness with other people was not for her and never pursued companionship again. She used other slave girls and had a friend in Wolf, and she knew that the other Predators respected her, but it wasn’t the same.

She looked at the sleeping figure on the bed. Little chubby Chess had grown up into the beautiful and majestic Francesca, Hunter was only human and had appreciated the other woman’s beauty even as she was willing herself to hate her. Being unable to talk to anybody, even Wolf, about her animosity towards their new home had been hard and seeing that face close to tears had almost broken her heart, but not her resolve. Nothing could destroy that. Seeing Douglas hit the sleeping woman so brutally had simply changed her resolve. Why the woman was married to such an animal was beyond Hunter. What she did know, was that he was never going to do it again.

Unfortunately that incident had almost totally transformed their relationship. Francesca would engage her in conversation and ask her questions, event buy her gifts. Hunter enjoyed the time they spent together, how could she not? But they were also too painful, giving her a glance back into a life that she might have led. The effect of the threats had also elevated their interaction in a way that had deeply unsettled the warrior. She had never expected that she would have to touch the other woman, much less carry her after she feinted. God only knew what would happen if the woman was ever confronted by her attacker. Not that she’d have to worry, Hunter would be their to protect her.

She took one last, lingering look at the vision on the bed before laying back and pulling covers over her torso. She curled into a tight ball, her hand straying to rub her neck. The damn chip always left residual pain for weeks after the incident. She was smiling as she fell asleep, thinking of the story she had heard Snake tell about what Francesca had done to Douglas as retaliation on her behalf. Chess was definitely in there somewhere.

**********

Darla sat looking at her little girl with worry etched into her face. She knew that Francesca and Douglas were having problems in their marriage, Douglas was sleeping at the other end of the wing, and the pressure of that added to the threats was really taking it’s toll on the young woman. She had lost a lot of weight and her cheeks were beginning to look a little sunken. She needed to get away and relax for a while, and Darla knew just where she should go. Thank goodness she and the blue haired girl had settled their differences.

"Princess, you should take Hunter to see the river. You two could make a day of it, take a picnic and you could show Hunter how to fish." She looked for her daughters reaction and was pleased with the hundred watt smile that she received. She quickly looked at Hunter who looked incredibly uncomfortable with the suggestion. Darla didn’t pay it much attention as she turned back to her child.

"That sounds like a great idea Mama, thank you!" She stood up and walked to her mothers chair. Se knelt in front of her and hugged the older woman tightly.

Darla kissed her daughters forehead gently. "That’s what I’m here for, darling. I’ll have the cook make you a picnic basket in the morning and the pair of you will be all set. You can even show off and show Hunter that she’s not the only one with quick reflexes." Francesca blushed as her mother continued. "You can catch a few fish, and then you and the babies can cook them."

"I love you, mama."

"I know, Princess."

********

The clearing was a secluded and peaceful as Hunter had remembered, it had obviously been lovingly tended over the years by the woman sitting beside her. The walk to this hidden spot had been strange for Hunter, like a flashback to her past but from Francesca’s point of view. Hunter had always been the one to go first, she was taller, stronger and older. She had made it her job to clear the path and carry the food. Today she followed a tall form who cleared the way and held the picnic basket in a long fingered hand.

"I think I’m going to take a nap before lunch, I didn’t get much sleep last night."

"So I heard."

"Oh God, Hunter, did you manage to get any sleep?" The tall woman looked remorseful.

"I was raised in dormitories, I can sleep pretty much anywhere." The reassurance seemed to work and the taller woman visibly relaxed.

"Wake me up when you get hungry." The tall woman laid down on the spread blanket, close to the seated warrior, and was soon dozing.

"Sleep tight Chess," whispered Hunter.

Several hours passed with Hunter taking in the tranquillity as her mistress slept beside her. Hunter had been shocked earlier when Francesca had turned onto her side and wrapped her arm around Hunter’s thigh and snuggled close to it as though it were a stuffed toy. Hunter hadn’t dared to shift her position for fear of waking the other woman and breaking the moment. It had been a long time since anybody had freely touched the gladiator without expectations or malice. She relished the feeling as she watched the fish flick like silver highlights in the clear water, her hand unconsciously straying to Francesca’s dark hair.


	10. Chapter 10

She's so soft, mused Hunter, running her fingers through raven locks. She snorted softly to herself, why wouldn't she be? She raised her hand form the tousled head and studied it intensely. She traced the map of thin scars criss-crossing the knuckles and meandering towards a pale wrist. The golden tan covering her hand and forearm was interrupted by a white band of flesh, another reminder of her days spent in bondage. Turning her hand she looked at the calluses coating the hills and valleys of her palm, each fingertip crowned with a rough halo. These were the hands of a warrior, a worker. Hands, she realised, could define their owner. Her lean, strong, scarred hands were the epitome of who she was both inside and out.

Eyes flickered to the pale hand laying beside her thigh. Long fingers curled inwards towards her palm revealing red polished nails, perfect in every way. Smooth porcelain skin over sleek muscle, flawless. Not a single blemish marred the perfection, yet they looked so vulnerable. The fingers twitched in sleep, closing into a tighter fist. This woman was beautiful, unique but ultimately fragile. Without thought Hunter began to trace one rough fingertip across Francesca's wrist. The sleeping woman flinched away from the touch as if she had been burned, recoiling away form the seated woman.

Francesca woke in a blind panic as she felt the touch on her arm. Why was Douglas in her bed? He never came to her any more, not since the twins were born, he had playmates for this. Her body was rigid and her eyes screwed tightly closed, trying desperately to distance herself form the pain that she was sure was coming. In this state it took her several moments to realise that the touch had ended almost as soon as it began. Confused, Francesca extended her senses cautiously noticing for the first time the sound of birdsong and the scent of grass. She slowly opened her eyes and found herself looking at the concerned face of her slave.

Forcing a smile she sat up. She was not going to let thoughts of Douglas spoil her day, it had started so well. She knew that her mother wanted her to relax and the slave was quite good company, once you loosened her up a bit. In her heart Francesca knew that she needed a friend and had found herself placing Hunter in that role in her mind. Wanting to alleviate the tension that had grown around them Francesca's smile turned sheepish.

"Wow, guess I was more tired than I thought!" She joked as she glanced at her watch. "You hungry?"

"You have to ask?" It was the one joke that the women shared. Hunter was a bottomless pit where food was concerned and the amount she could pack away fascinated the free woman.

"Chicken or ham?"

**********  
"Mrs Prince said that you might show me something?" Hunter was honestly curious as to her owners special skill.

"Oh, that." Francesca ran a hand over her face to hide her embarrassment. It had been a cool talent to have when she was in school, but in front of this warrior her little feat seemed silly.

"You don't have to, I'm only here to serve. You don't have to feel obligated, you own me." Hunter really didn't want to upset the other woman. She had been distressed by the way in which she had woken up, and wanted to know why the dark woman's reaction had been so extreme (although she had an idea). Yet the divide created by their positions forbade her from prying too deeply.

"Promise not to laugh?" Hunter could see that the other woman was genuinely concerned. The other woman had been playful all day and had even tried to teach the warrior some of the games that her children enjoyed. She hadn't even asked why the slave had been touching her in her sleep, something Hunter could only be grateful for.

"I promise." Her voice was softer than she had intended and took her darker companion by surprise.

"Alright!" As suddenly as she said it, Francesca was up and running straight towards the clear water. Rather than stopping at the edge as Hunter had expected, she ran straight off the bank and splashed into the river only stopping once the water was mid-thigh.

There she stood, rising out of the water like a sun bathed goddess. Her blue eyes reflected the exact colour of the water that lapped against her. She was completely still, breathing slowly, allowing the water to calm around her. Hunter was mesmerised by what she saw. In the time that she had been with the woman she had watched her dance and workout, but had never really thought of her as a physical person. Now, watching her, Hunter was struck by her sleek athleticism. This woman could be formidable if she'd just let go.

Suddenly Francesca darted forwards, her hands disappearing under the water. She rooted around under the surface and with a triumphant grin brought her hands up. In her grip she held a single silver skinned fish. The sunlight gleamed off it's skin as it struggled valiantly to regain it's freedom. She turned, holding up her prize for her audience to see.

"Damn, I could never do that." The words just slipped from Hunters mouth before she could censor them. She mentally crossed her fingers, hoping that the other woman had misunderstood.

"Of course you could, it just takes practice." Francesca waded out of the water as Hunter let out a mental sigh of relief.

The heiress reached the shore and stripped out of her linen pants, leaving herself clad only in a long shirt and panties. She laid her soaked clothing on a nearby rock to allow the warm sun to dry the thin fabric and turned towards her protector. She was amused to note that the other woman was respectfully turned away from her, looking anywhere but at her. At that moment, looking at the shorter woman, Francesca felt a pang of something deep inside. Francesca took in the bowed head, for the first time noticing that the blue was growing out, being replaced by blond roots.

I wonder why she's so embarrassed?

BANG!

Idol thoughts ceased as both women's heads snapped in the direction of the house...and the ear splitting sound.

**********  
The wing laid in ruins, flames licking towards the blue sky as if worshipping the sun. What had once been three storeys was reduced to ground level. Blue and red light bathed the scene as emergency vehicles surrounded the building. Firemen clustered around the perimeter of the blaze, hoses pointed at the fiery menace, water arcing forward at high pressure.

Francesca ran for the three ambulances on the lawn, her body numb with fear as her legs drove her forward. Hunter was hot on her heels, her fear for both the victims and the woman running to them. As the dark haired woman reached the stretchers should was almost knocked off her feet at the sight of two crisp, shinny body-bags laying side-by-side on the grass. Her heart leapt into her throat before she realised that the figures in the bags were almost unnaturally large. Not her children, or even Douglas, she couldn't help but breath an audible sigh of relief. She swept towards the open back of the first ambulance.

Hunter's feet stopped of their own accord as her eye's fell on the black bags. Looking at the dimensions of the bags she knew instantly who was in each one. The identical bags held identical men, gentle men who didn't deserve to die like this. They should have gained their freedom and had a life. She tore her eyes away from her comrades and turned them to the ambulances. Francesca was leaning over a small reclining figure, tears streaming down her face. On two other beds sat Douglas, Terrance and Rochel. The three of them looked battered but mostly fine. At least the boys hadn't died in vein.

**********  
Francesca sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair in the emergency room's waiting area. Trying not to think about what was happening to her children she couldn't help but muse about progress. In a world where genes could be mapped and planets could be reached, a comfortable plastic chair was still out of reach. This line of reasoning didn't last long as once more the waves of guilt came crashing down on her. She should have been there to protect her babies not playing in the woods with a slave!

As soon as they had arrived at the hospital Rebecca had been rushed to into surgery. Her beautiful littlest girl had been caught in the worst of the blast, in the same area as Polar and Grizzly. Her left arm had been burnt but the rest of her had been protected from the flames by the body of one of the men. The impact of the falling body must have been extreme as she had four broken ribs and a collapsed lung as well as a possible skull fracture. Francesca desperately wanted to be outside the operating room, but first she had to wait for her other children, then they could all go up together.

Terrance and Rochel had only suffered minor injuries. They and their father had been outside the nursery when the bomb went off and thrown clear of the blast. Terry had suffered a broken arm and minor cuts while his sister only had a sprained ankle. They were presently being treated. Douglas had suffered a broken collar bone and was waiting to be treated.

The singer raised her head from her hands and looked at her slave. The old resentment of the animal was resurfacing as a defence mechanism, she could blame Hunter for all this. They shouldn't have gone to the woods. She was on the verge of lashing out at the silent figure when their eyes locked. In the depths of the artificially blue eyes she saw despair. It was like looking into a bottomless pit of sadness, she started to be pulled into the void and had to tare herself away before she fell too far to escape. She turned her gaze back to the floor.

"Mummy, it hurts!" The small tearful voice instantly pulled her forward and she swooped up her son and held him like he was the most precious thing in the world. One of a priceless set of three.


	11. Chapter 11

She wanted to be anywhere but here. She wanted to be upstairs with her parents and her children. Instead she was waiting for Douglas while her babies were being watched protected by slaves. Slaves like those who had failed and allowed this to happen. Once more she felt a welling of intense emotion directed to her own property, but she squashed it. She was neither ready nor prepared to face the implications of the strength of her feelings towards Hunter, either good or bad.

The room was eerily silent, even though it was filled with people, each one waiting for news on a loved one. The air would occasionally be invaded by a muffled sob or a snore as people became agitated or submitted to the blissful oblivion of sleep. Francesca just felt numb. When she had seen her little boy stumble towards her, his arm in a huge, obscenely white, caste and his face bruised and cut she had crumbled. She had clutched him to her so tightly that she had feared that he might break, afraid to let go. When, minutes later his sister had been carried in by a tall, red haired, nurse the relief that had flowed over her had an almost physical impact on the singer. She had fallen back into her chair and held out her arms for Rochel. Her foot was strapped and her eyes were red, but she was in much better condition than her big brother.

They had stayed like that for thirty minutes, until Salvatore and Darla arrived from the police station. They and the rest of the household had been interviewed for hours about the events leading up to the explosion. Francesca and Hunter had also been quizzed, but their absence had made them less valuable witnesses. The police had allowed them to head directly to the hospital from the house, with the condition that they head to the station in the morning. Darla looked at her daughter with pity in her eyes and offered to take the children up to wait for Rebecca. Francesca had nodded in thanks and watched as her parents carried away her offspring, flanked by the dour countenance of Wolf, Phoenix and Snake. That had been two hours ago.

Now here she was looking like the dutiful wife waiting for her husband. The reality couldn't be further from the truth. She wanted to know why Douglas had let this happen. She wanted to blame the man who had been ruining her life for almost ten years. So she sat and waited, alone. Hunter had long since stood and walked away to stand beside the admit desk. Her eyes were constantly looking over the room, never landing on the other woman.

Hunter felt isolated and confused. She had spent years taking other people's lives without remorse, it was what had made her such an exceptional gladiator. Death shouldn't have any impact on her after what she had done, but here she was caught up in thoughts of the men that she had lost. They had been so childlike in their outlooks, they had never become the jaded old soldiers that the rest of them were. She would not cry, she couldn't, but she felt another piece of her heart break off and float away.

She looked back to where her owner sat. She had felt the change in the other woman as they had sat beside each other. It seemed to ebb and flow between pent up fury and despair and most of the fury seemed to be directed at her. She could see it in each glance that the dark woman threw at her, like a weapon. The woman was breaking down and she was not looking forward to the confrontation to come. When the slave had looked at the injured children she had felt a pain in her gut, a sensation that she hadn't felt since Jordan was taken from her. Looking at the pale, tiny form of Rebecca, death did seem like a terrible thing. Nothing like that should have to happen to this little girl. Things like this were only meant for her.

**********  
Douglas was seething. How dare she not be there to look after her own children. She'd rather be out gallivanting with that creature, doing God knows what together. That though led to it's own chain reaction of rage, the indignities in his mind building up in layers. She belonged to him, he had marked her years before and she had never so blatantly disobeyed him as she since that slave came along.

Buying the slaves had seemed like such a good idea. He would further exert his power over her, having his eyes, ears and hands close to her all the time. Hunter was too wilful for that to be a possibility. The second rate killer had a set of scruples, a moral code that did not gel with his world view. No, she was not the asset that he had hoped she'd be. He had realised almost from the start that Savage would have been the perfect choice for Francesca. The weasely man was snide and vindictive and cherished the violence. He would have done whatever Douglas asked. When the bitch had hit him things had started to change. Francesca was like a different woman. No, that wasn't it, she was becoming the girl he married again. Not the woman he owned.

He was beginning to be cut out of her business dealings and she was controlling her own money. The physical domination he had used on her for years was no longer an option and he was loosing his hold. There was no way that Salvatore would side with Douglas against his daughter. But this new development might play into his hands, he could use the children to show what a bad mother Francesca was becoming. Blackmail would be a far less strenuous control mechanism than he was used to. He smiled to himself, this just might work out after all.

**********  
The doors to the waiting room were flung open by the brown haired man. His arm was close to his body and secured in a sling to prevent him form further damaging his collar bone. His face sported a large gauze over the right cheek and a matching black-eye. His eyes were dark and his countenance was stiff, edgy. His was looking for a fight and he was about to find one.

Francesca stood up when she saw Douglas enter the room and cringed at the look in his eyes. She had seen that look a thousand times before. It always manifested itself before he hit her, with good reason, or so he always told her. She pulled her courage together and stood in front of him. He couldn't hit her in the hospital and even if he tried Hunter would put him down.

Douglas shot a look at his wife's guard and them turned his eyes back to the beauty before him. He reached out towards his wife and grabbed her arm tightly, satisfied when he saw her wince in pain. He quickly pulled her after him out of the room, Savage closely following the couple with Hunter close behind him. Once far enough away from the waiting area that Douglas knew they wouldn't be heard he spun Francesca to face him. The sound of her shoes on the polished floor echoed through the sterile corridor, making the woman painfully aware of it's near deserted quality.

"What the hell were you thinking!" Douglas began in earnest. With each word it seemed as though his hold on her grew tighter. "What sort of mother are you? You leave your children alone so you can go and do who knows what with your precious slave!" Francesca opened her mouth to reply but was cut off by a rough shake. Hunter moved to intervene but was held back by the other slave. Savage shook his head slowly and pulled the warrior further away from the couple.

"You really do think your a princess now, don't you? Seems I've given you everything you ever wanted. I gave you children, a home, a career, servants, slaves and now I've given you a new playmate! Now you can stop dreaming about that kid, I've given you a real live grownup to fantasise about!" The slap to the good side of his face was sudden and unexpected, sending him reeling for a moment. When he regained his senses his face was red, his temple throbbing.

"I'm sorry Douglas." She raised a hand to cover her lips. "I'm so sorry, your just worried about the children, I know you don't really mean it." Her eye's began to mist with tears as her voice broke.

"It's time you made some choices, Princess. I don't know who you are anymore. Do you?" With these hissed words he turned on his heel and headed out of the hospital.

**********  
The shadowed figure smirked as the little drama unfolded before their very eyes. The raised voice of Douglas had drawn the watcher to the corridor and the scene that played out could have been choreographed by the warped mind. This was what the stalker had been hoping for. The fact that the house had been easier to get into had been a bonus.

Most of the family had been out when a maintenance person had arrived to fix the air-conditioning. With both Francesca and Douglas out of the house and accompanied by the children all of the slaves had been absent, leaving only the regular security in position. After a cursory search access into the house had been granted. The worker had been escorted by a guard and then left in the maintenance room with a guard on the door. Slipping out had proved simple, what with all the resent practice at the other premises.

Looking for the best place for the bomb had proved difficult with time constraints and the explosive had to be planted in the closest family room. That room happened to be the nursery, as good a place as any. The children would be in a prime location, and at least one parent would be in the blast. What more could be asked for. Quickly getting set up and back to the maintenance room the man on the door didn't suspect a thing and soon the terrorist was home free.

That had been two weeks ago, the watcher was nothing if not patient. The bomb had been a little more powerful than intended, it wasn't intended to destroy the wing, just the room. However, the results were more than pleasing. Three injuries and two deaths, granted not of family members, but it was sure to set the family reeling. There was also the minor detail of one child in surgery, still the chance for a fatality there. Slightly shuffling black boots seemed to alert the blue haired freak to a presence in the shadows. Time for a strategic withdrawal. Douglas had already left, he could be followed. With that the figure was gone.

**********  
Terrance was asleep with his head cradled on her lap, his slim body stretched out on the bench. His soft snores filling the corridor with a sense of life that it was otherwise lacking. On her other side sat Rochel. Tucked under her mothers arm, with her head cushioned on her breasts she was as deeply asleep as her brother. Periodically a whimper would sound from one of the two children prompting Francesca to softly stroke the head of the child in question until it subsided.

Francesca was glad that they could sleep almost untroubled. She on the other hand was not able to shut down. Her mind kept running over the events of the day over and over again. It had started so well, she had been happy playing in the grass with Hunter and making pictures in the clouds. It had been like reliving her childhood. These had been the games she had played with her best friend and later on with her own children. Then it had all come crashing down on her.

The house was ruined. Her children were hurt and her husband hated her. Douglas had been right, she didn't know who she was anymore, she was so confused. Hunter was certainly influencing her whether it was a good or bad influence was yet to be seen. What would she do if Douglas left her? They had been married for ten years and she had no idea of what adult life was like without him. He had been a good man when they married, but something had changed when Terrance had come along and the twins had proved to be the last straw for him, apparently. She had been on the receiving end ever since.

She needed to relax, get some sleep. Rebecca had come out of surgery several hours ago and was now in ICU. The doctors said that she was stable and should make a full recovery. She had wanted the children to go home with her parents and sleep in their own beds, but they had refused to leave. They had both started to cry and held their mother as tightly as they possibly could. Darla assured her daughter that they'd be fine in the hospital and that she and Salvatore would be back first thing with a change of clothes and some breakfast. All was calm, yet she was still afraid. Douglas hadn't come back and at this time of night she knew that he wouldn't. He was probably being pampered by one of his 'friends' right now.

Trying to think happy thoughts and get to sleep she looked over at Hunter. The bodyguard had retreated back into herself and stood stoically against the wall. She looked like a tireless machine, scanning the empty hallways, alert for danger. Francesca tried to catch her eyes and when she did the sadness in their depths ran deep. The heiress offered her a reassuring smile in lieu of an apology, which the shorter woman accepted with a weary smile of her own.

She let her mind wander back to the morning. The other woman certainly held a lot of surprises. She had been so gentle when Francesca had fallen asleep, stroking her hair in the same way that Rhani had. In her dream Francesca had even heard herself called Chess by the other woman. Nobody knew that nickname but her family, and they never used it. Nobody had ever used it in front of Hunter.

"I could never do that."

Rhani had never been able to catch the fish in the water, she'd always been put off by the refraction in the water. The fish would be a few millimetres away from where she would strike. Hunter was blond, the roots of her hair showing through the dye. Hunter had seen 'Star Wars'. How could somebody born into slavery have seen any movies?

Hunter knew how to play Chess and Rhani's games. Hunter knew things that slaves couldn't know. Francesca studied Hunter's face more closely than she ever had before, looking beyond the scars and the contact lenses. Hunters attention was elsewhere so she was free to do this. The pert nose and round cheeks made the face look young, the defiant chin giving voice to her true nature. The face was familiar. The face was nineteen years older, but it was her, Francesca had been too blind to see it.

Hunter was Rhani!

Rhani was alive!

Even Rhani had betrayed her...


	12. Chapter 12

"Darla honey, why are you sitting out here?" Salvatore leaned down and kissed his wife on the cheek as he lowered himself into the swing beside her.

"I'm so worried about her." The slight woman sighed and laid her head against her husbands broad shoulder.

"I know." He kissed the top of her head as he drew her closer. "When they moved in I couldn't believe how depressed she seemed. I know that all of the phone calls and the threats have been dragging her down, but she seemed happy, for a while. Was I just imagining that." He locked his eyes with his wife.

"No, Sal, I saw it too."

"Maybe I should talk to Douglas." At these words Darla shot up and turned stunned eyes on her partner. "Or not."

"You can't be serious, Sal. Our daughters marriage is falling apart right in front of you and you want to talk to Douglas?" She was incredulous.

"Look, I know that they don't sleep together, but lots of couples do that. Douglas loves the children..." He was cut of by an icy glare from his wife.

"You think that's enough for your Princess, a loveless marriage just as long as he loves the children?"

"Who said it was loveless?"

"Our daughters on the verge of a nervous breakdown at the very least and you can ask that?"

"Don't even think that I don't love my little girl." His anger was rising.

"That's not what I mean and you know it!"

"Good, because I try to protect her. I love her and I give her everything she needs. What have you done for this situation?"

"That's the problem! You buy her things, you surround her with protection, you do what you think she needs. You smother her, you always did, but I don't think that's what she needs from you anymore. I listen to her, Sal. You need to talk to her more, I try to help her with her problems."

"Such as?" The man's eyes were cool.

"Sal, sweetheart, don't get defensive. I don't really think we need this side of the house to explode along with your head. We only have so much money." The attempt at levity was tempered by it's serious implication. Two sets of eye's scanned towards the ruins of their home. Even in his agitated state, Salvatore pulled Darla close to him and held her tight, keeping her safe in his arms.

"We should have done something, shouldn't we?"

"Like what? She's a grown woman. Short of finding him beating her...which is unlikely."

"Yeah, he's not that sort of boy, thank god."

"She's only ever done what she wants to do. We just need to stand behind whatever she decides." Darla looked at her husband. "We need to watch her now, I think that she is tipping over the edge. I don't think that she and Doug have talked at all in the last week, not even when Becca came home yesterday." She took a deep breath and looked wearily towards Salvatore. "Lets go to bed." She took his hand and led him through the balcony doors.

"Thank God we only had one daughter," breathed the tall man as he pulled the French-style doors closed behind him.

**********  
SMACK.

Darla heard the sound of a hand impacting flesh and hurried towards it. What she found, round the bend in the hallway, left her motionless. In front of her stood a clearly furious Francesca glaring at her slave. Hunter's face clearly showed a mixture of sorrow and disgust, directed at who the older woman could not be certain. What she could be certain of was the growing redness on the slaves cheek caused by the slap. As her daughter began to tremble, Darla stepped into the fray.

"Hunter, please leave." As the slave was about to interject she was silenced by a shushing motion. "I know your duty is to protect my daughter, but I think she will be quite safe with her father and myself. Go and watch over the children. I don't doubt that either Wolf or Phoenix could use a break and the children would like to see you." Hunter looked chastened and turned away. She was almost out of earshot before Darla called out, "Get some ice for your face." The blue head bowed further as she trudged away.

Darla spun towards her daughter who seemed to have regained some composure. To a casual observer she seemed to be in control of her emotions, but her mother could see straight through her facade. Of all her children, Francesca was most like her father and Darla could read him like a book. Without a word she reached for her child's larger hand and lead her towards her father's study. When the younger woman turned pleading eyes on her petite mother all she received was a glare in response. Letting out a noisy breath she allowed herself to be lead.

Francesca's mind was still in too much turmoil for her to put up any resist against her mother. She let herself be towed like a wayward child as she tried to come to terms with what had happened only moments before. She had hoped for answers from the warrior, but her own temper had flared. Now, walking behind her mother, it looked like those answers were very far away.

**********  
Hunter found herself in the stables with an icepack pressed against her reddened cheek. She wasn't entirely sure how she got there, a thought that shook her to the core. She was aware of her surroundings at all times, it was part of her training, of who she was. How could she so totally lose focus? God, this was hardly a life threatening injury, and she had definitely had worse but nothing had affected her like this.

She rested her elbow on the table and propped her head against it, her mind going over the other woman's words. How had Francesca figured it out? She had been so careful to keep her distance, not wanting to get too close. She never got close, it put people in danger and just made her more vulnerable. She had learnt her lesson after they used Jordan's life against her. The other slaves weren't really her friends, they were her brothers in arms. The only one she trusted and thought of as something close to a friend was Shep and only because he could almost best her in combat.

She ran her hand through her hair and let out a weary sigh. Everything would change now, Francesca's respect and trust had certainly been lost. Back to being treated like an animal, at best, at worst she was probably looking at being sold on. Back to a life that she had thought she enjoyed. A life filled with pain and destruction, the give and take of violence.

"What have I become?" She whispered to the emptiness. "I'm afraid of going back! They've ruined me, just like before!" Her hand tightened on the cold bag before she threw it across the room. As it impacted the wall shards of ice flew out as the bag split.

She pushed herself up from the table and turned to the door, surveying the mess she had made on the way. A wry smile spread across her face, that just about summed up her day.

**********  
"It wasn't what it looked like." Francesca's tone was pleading.

"I should bloody well hope not!" Darla wanted answers.

"Excuse me, ladies, but could you fill me in?" Salvatore sat behind his desk looking at the two women opposite. He was a picture of confusion.

Darla turned to her husband. "I found our daughter outside her room, hitting Hunter."

"Excuse me?" Salvatore was incredulous.

"Papa, it wasn't like that. Mama, please sit down and I'll try to explain what you saw." The young woman held back a sob. "I thought you knew me better than that."

Her parents exchanged a glance, thinking back to their conversation only days before on the balcony. Salvatore locked eyes with his youngest child and could see the depth of sorrow in them. He tried to give her a reassuring smile, but she turned her face away, studying the carpet.

"Just tell us the truth, Princess."

"I've never lied to you," it was almost a whisper. "Can you say the same."

The couple looked startled. "I think you better tell us exactly what's going on."

**********  
"What's going on, Hunter?" Wolf was looking intently at the other warrior. He had noticed her reddened cheek almost immediately but had waited for the children to go to dinner with Morgan before confronting her.

"What do you think of the name Rhani?" Was the reply he received. He watched as his companion reclined on the floor.

"It's nice, pretty. What has that got to do with your face?" The sound of his deep voice hung in the air for several heartbeats before the woman answered.

"That was my name once, Rhani Campbell. I was born free and raised right here, in this very house." She turned to survey the impact of her words on the other slave, smiling wearily as she noted his slack jaw. "Francesca, it seems, has worked out my identity. She seemed a little pissed." She rubbed her cheek self consciously.

"Why didn't you tell her who you were? Surely they would have set you free. Hell, why didn't you tell me?" He didn't know whether to be angry or just hurt at the revelation.

"I can't ever be that child again, Shep. I didn't want to care, I've done that and it broke me." She suddenly let out a bitter laugh. "Why do you think they'd set me free? They let my father sell me when I was five! I stayed living here till I was nine years old, all that time I would be sent off to be trained. Why would they give a shit who I was now?"

"I really can't know everything about you, can I?"

"Nope."

"Tell me something, did Jordan know?"

"Of course. She knew it all, I told her everything."

"I think you need to talk to your owner. Before you go mad, just listen. The two of you have got over a rocky start and you were hitting it off. Maybe the distance was a part of your plans not to get involved, but it's too late for that now. The children like you and they need their mother to be stable. Fighting with you and doing whatever she is with the master is not doing that." Hunter still looked defiant. "Look you don't have to explain the story of your life, just your reason for hiding the truth. Tell her what you told me."

The short woman let out a gusty sigh and collapsed completely onto her back. "Fine, When Morgan gets back I'll go and face the music."

Still waters certainly do run deep, thought Wolf smiling at the old cliche, as Hunter stared at the ceiling.

**********  
"You never really told me what happened to Rhani, did you? I mean, you said that she'd gone away and wasn't coming back, but I thought that was a euphemism. I thought that meant that she was dead! It was what you told me when my kitten died, for God's sake!"

With their daughter becoming so agitated in front of them, Darla felt pity wash through her. She knew she shouldn't have been so harsh earlier, but she detested violence. To see her daughter abusing another living creature had shaken her badly. "Sweetheart, what are you talking about? What has Rhani got to do with Hunter?"

"You lied to me! All of you lied to me, you and Papa, the boys, Rhani's parents. Why didn't you tell me!" At the puzzled looks form her parents Francesca took in a gulping breath. "Hunter is Rhani!"

"What?" Both parents sad in unison.

"What happened? Was she snatched?"

"Now listen here young lady, we had no idea she was alive. Mark told us that he was having her trained to use computers, that's where she went al the time. One day she didn't come back and Mark told us there had been a car accident. Why shouldn't we believe him? He and Liz had worked here for years, we raised you girls together. You know how the big computer corps are, recruiting children to learn how to interface with the AI's. Rhani was so bright we never had a reason to doubt." Salvatore looked appalled. "How do you know it's her anyway? You haven't seen her nineteen years!"

"I figured it out from things she said. I confronted her and she admitted it!" Francesca was trembling again.

Darla looked at her husband and he nodded for her to take the lead. She stood up from her chair and knelt in front of the dark woman. She took her little girl's trembling hands and pulled her forward, bringing her into a warm hug. Francesca let her head rest on her mothers shoulder as she tried not to cry.

"I think we should find Hunter and find out what is going on."

**********  
"Why did you lie to me?"

Hunter found herself alone in Salvatore's study with her owner. She could see the stress etched on the face of the other woman as she threw out her accussation. Having not been in this position before Hunter was unsure how to react. All she could be sure of was anger would only make things worse. She took a deep breath, ready to attempt an explanation. She hoped that this would prevent her from being sold on, as much as she hated to admit it, she liked it here.

"I didn't lie to you. I haven't been Rhani for almost twenty years. I wasn't trying to hurt you, but I didn't want to be hurt either. I keep my distance from everybody."

"But you were my best friend!" The pleading in the other woman's voice was clear. "Everybody is trying to control me, even you!"

"I don't know what you want me to say!" Hunter felt like she was drowning.

"You hold all the cards, can't you see that? You have power over me!" The dark woman's voice was rising.

"WHAT! How can I possibly have power over you! I'm a slave!" The warrior's anger was starting to flare.

"You know everything about me. About my entire childhood and the space in between, I know you read the magazines!"

Something clicked for Hunter. "You want to know where I used to go when we were children, don't you?"

Francesca nodded wordlessly.

"I need to know one thing first...Did your parents know what was happening to me?" She held her breath in anticipation.

"No, they really didn't."

"Alright. Um...When I was five dad needed money so he sold me to a slaver. I guess he knew that I couldn't just vanish, you'd be too upset, so he made a bargain with the buyer. Dad could keep me here but I had to be trained offsite until I was ten. You'd be old enough to not care if I disappeared. The first time they took me away..."

**********  
"...I think I should leave now. I'll just be outside now."

The large wooden door closed softly leaving Francesca in total silence. She hadn't looked up as the other woman left, still caught up in the warriors story. In two hours Hunter had laid bare her childhood and it didn't match her own. Francesca remembered a time of fun and total happiness, Hunter remembered pain and brutality. She talked of dance lessons followed by beatings, rape and gymnastic practice going hand in hand. She had been taught to be a concubine, a seducer with trips home as her reward. It seemed that the young Chess had been her reason to be good, to take it.

Francesca raised her head to look at the closed door, picturing the woman behind it. Silent tears tracked down her face while she considered how much she still didn't know. The years being a gladiator and the killing of one of her owners all lay after that violent infancy. She suddenly needed to comfort the other woman in some way. She wiped her eyes and made her way to the door.

Before she was halfway across the room the door burst open, admitting a smirking Douglas. She stood in front of him, totally stunned. Why hadn't Hunter stopped him coming in? She couldn't handle a confrontation right now. She tried to walk past him, but he grabbed her arm and jerked her to him.

"What, no hello?" He leered at her and crushed his mouth down on hers. She struggled to free herself, but Douglas just held her arms tighter.

"Listen to me Princess, I've decided that I want more control over our money. I should be able to protect the children, you obviously can't, so I need access to everything. I also think you should step back with your record label, let me resume my role."

"Doug, please let me go!" She could see the intent in his eyes. "We talked about this, you said you didn't mind me working with the record label." She was too tired for this.

Douglas wasn't in the mood to be disobeyed. "Maybe you're forgetting who abandoned the children when the house exploded? Don't you feel any remorse!" He knew it was a low blow and he relished the wince of pain on face.

"You can't blame me for that..." The slap to her face whipped her head back.

As Douglas drew his hand back for another blow the door flew open, admitting Salvatore. He had been talking to Hunter around the corner, apologising for what her father had done. They had been on their way back to the study when he had heard the struggle from within. The sight of his daughter being restrained by Douglas, his hand raised to her brought out his rage.

"Get out of my house! Nobody touches my daughter." Douglas opened his mouth to respond but was stopped when he felt a powerful hand on his neck. "Get rid of him Hunter!"

Hunter nodded and dragged the tall man out of the room. Salvatore rushed to his child's side, rapping his arms around her as she collapsed, sobbing. He cooed soft words to her, stroking her hair. He wanted answers, but he could wait. He could do anything for her.


	13. Chapter 13

Damn that fuckin' bitch!, fumed Douglas, slamming down the phone. How dare she refuse to talk to me! I have as much right to see my children as she does...Hell, I have more! I'm not having a nervous breakdown, I was there for them while she was out with that whoring slave! It had been three days since Salvatore had him thrown out of the house. In that time all of his phone calls had been refused and any attempt to visit his children had been denied.

He picked up his glass of scotch, taking a large gulp, before placing it back on the coffee table. He caste his eye's around the living room, noting once again the subtle changes made by the cleaning ladies. It had been months since he had shared this apartment with his family and he realised that without the children it was a cold and sterile place. He angrily shook his head, it was not the time to dwell on what had been. If Francesca wanted a fight, he was going to win.

Douglas stood and paced towards the calendar on the wall, tapping the boldly written date with a thick finger. In two days he would be seeing his lawyer and then the Prince family wouldn't know what hit them. He was confident that if Francesca persisted with this foolishness he would win the case. He was stable, caring and they had no proof that he had ever laid a hand on her before. Of course, he would rather retain Francesca as well, having a beautiful, talented woman on his arm gave him a certain kudos among his peers that was hard to buy.

The sudden knocking drew him to the front door. Having been left with no bodyguard when he was thrown out, Salvatore had confiscated both Savage and Snake, Doug had to be cautious. He turned on the surveillance camera located above the door and assessed his visitor. Since a glut of shootings a couple of years ago, peepholes had been quickly phased out; it was too easy to shoot the homeowner through the door. Running a cursory eye over the beaming face outside, he opened the door.

"I didn't expect you today." His voice was rough from the alcohol.

"I thought you could use a little company." An elegant hand lifted up a bottle of Champaign.

"What the hell have I got to celebrate?" His brief good mood was beginning to sour.

"You're going to be free very soon." The tall, lean woman purred as she walked over to the couch.

Douglas looked at her, lounging on the plush leather. She was like an animal, all passion and fire. He had met her almost a year ago, she was so different from his wife. This woman was strong, resourceful, sexual and she really turned him on. She didn't cry when he smacked her a little, she relished it, begged him for it. She liked it rough, this was the woman that he needed. She was a hooker, but she looked good. With enough money he could make her a princess. Not quite the prize that his wife was, but owning her, possessing her would never be dull.

A loud pop drew his attention back to her as foam spilled over her hand. She extended her velvet tongue and licked it off her fingers. A huge grin spread across his sullen face.

"You gonna' share?"

**********  
Hunter stood in the garden, holding Rebecca in her arms. The little girl sat perched on her hip with her arms rapped tightly around the warriors neck. The pair silently watched the antics of the other two children as they ran through the grounds being chased by their mother. Becca was still too weak to run around, but she didn't mind, she liked to be with Hunter.

Rebecca rested her head on the muscular shoulder and watched her mummy play. She looked so happy that the little girl was glad that her daddy had gone away. In her short life she had never seen her mother smile like she had in the last three days and she liked it. Not that she didn't love her daddy, he played with her, read her stories and carried her, but Hunter could do that stuff. She didn't really need daddy while she had Hunter.

Thinking about the slave whose arms she was wrapped in the child's thoughts naturally turned to her two friends, Polar and Grizzly. Mummy had explained that the two men had been hurt really badly in the accident and that they hadn't got better. Rebecca could still feel the pain of her injuries, so she knew that they must have been hurt a lot. She didn't really understand what dead meant, but she knew that they weren't coming back and that she would probably be really old before she saw them again.

She was starting to get tired from being out in the fresh air. She snuggled closer to Hunter who tightened her embrace so that she wouldn't fall. The child couldn't really understand why her mummy was acting differently around Hunter since daddy left. First of all mummy had hated the blue haired slave, then she liked her a lot and now mummy was really cautious around her. She had even called her a weird name a couple of times, but Hunter didn't seem to like that at all. Adults were way too complicated.

"Feeling tired Tiny?" Cooed the warrior.

"I am not tiny." A yawn split her cherubic face.

"But you are tired. Lets go tell your mum." Rebecca could feel the rhythm of Hunters steps as she walked to the laughing group.

" 'kay." The sleepy response trailed off as she fell asleep. Hunter's hair isn't blue anymore, was her last though before dreamland.

**********  
Douglas laid on his back, satiated and completely oblivious. He was floating somewhere between asleep and awake, feeling like a million dollars. He felt like a God who had been thoroughly worshipped by a very skilled acolyte. He allowed himself to be further lulled by the sounds of her soft breathing as she slept beside him. He pulled the covers closer to his chin and drifted into a deep and dreamless sleep.

The lithe body turned and studied the peacefully sleeping man. A smirk spread across the angelic face as she allowed her eyes to focus in the dim light of the bedroom. It looked different when somebody was living here, it was something she had noticed on her previous visits. When the whole family were living in the apartment it was filled with energy, an almost hyperactive aura hung over the place. Douglas lent the place an air of lethargy and casual aggression. When empty the place held an almost ethereal calm.

She rose slowly, careful not to disturb his sleeping form. She stood beside the bed and stretched languidly, idly noting the popping as her spin realigned itself. She paced softly to his side of the bed, noting the heavy wooden bat that he kept there for his own protection. Moving beyond him she picked up her bag and headed into the bathroom, pulling the door closed behind her.

Flicking on the light she had to squint so as not to be blinded by the brightness, once she was comfortable she set to work. Pulling out a pair of latex gloves and slipping them on she was ready to pull on a black cat suite, shoes and a hood. She meticulously made sure that no hairs escaped from the hood. Settling the rest of her belongings in the bag she hefted it and walked into the lounge. Scooping up the Champaign bottle and glasses she threw them in with her clothes. Brushing off any hair on the sofa, using adhesive tape, she straightened up and moved to the next room.

Once more in the bedroom she lent over her side of the bed. Once again she removed any hair fibres, also removing as much skin debris as was possible. She straightened the sheets and smoothed the pillow. There was no evidence that she had ever been in the house, let alone in the bed. Now she was finally ready.

She climbed onto the bed, straddling the prone form. Letting her weight rest totally on his stomach. Douglas awoke with a whoosh as all of the air left his lungs with the sudden impact. For a moment he thought he was dreaming until his eye's focused on the dark figure looming over him. He frantically looked around for his bed-mate, worried for her safety when he couldn't see her. He was ready to lung for his assailant when he saw the hooded head shake in censure.

A hand reached over him and came back holding his bat. All of this had happened in moment, leaving him too stunned and bewildered to realise that he should call for help. By the time that his brain caught up with his heart it was too late. He opened his mouth to scream when the bat came down heavily across his skull, breaking his jaw and turning any he scream into a gurgle.

The first blow disabled the man below her, leaving him gasping through the bloody pulp of his mouth and nose. His eyes looked at her pleadingly, his fear palpable in the quite room. The only sound was his breathing and the rustle of the sheets beneath them. Once again she hefted the bat high above her own head before bringing it down with crushing force against his temple, again and again until with a satisfying crunch his skull shattered. In the dim light she could make out the grey matter as it oozed out of his head. He was still breathing shallowly, his body spasming spastically. With one final blow his head totally caved, his body stilling. The room became utterly silent.

Replacing the bat where she had found it, leaning against the wall, she stood carefully. Padding across the floor, avoiding the patches of blood and gore near the bed she moved to her gear. Moving once again to the bathroom she stripped of the black clothing and bundled them into a plastic bag, sealing it before replacing it in her pack. Quickly showering, using a fresh pair of latex gloves, she dressed in the clothes she had arrived in. She skill fully cleaned the shower, then with high heeled shoes in hand she walked to the door. Using the door camera she scanned the empty hallway before slipping out and disappearing back into the night.

**********  
"Thank you." It was said quietly, breaking the uncomfortable silence that hung between them.

"For what?" Francesca turned to look at her companion.

"Um... For letting Shep, I mean Wolf and Phoenix spend the evening together. They were really shaken up about the twins dieing. What with Snake and Savage guarding the house they were starting to snipe at each other a little."

"It's hardly a chore Hunter, I love my children and sitting on a soft couch outside their room is a pleasure."

She looked thoughtful for a moment. The two women were still uncomfortable around each other. Hunter's revelation still hung between them and there was still so much that Francesca wanted to ask, but was too afraid to alienate her old friend. When her father found out about Douglas he had been furious. His anger had been focused at the other man, but had almost seeped over at his family. He felt powerless and Francesca could see why. Hunter had stepped into the maelstrom, explaining what she knew to Salvatore and taking the abuse he threw at her. He was angry that nobody had told him about it and Hunter was a scapegoat. Francesca had only allowed that to last a day before she started to open up to her father.

She wanted to have a conversation. "So, Wolf's name is Shep?"

"Actually, it's Mathew and Phoenix is Megan. Savage never lets on about his real name, like me I guess. We don't know why. Snake used to be called Colt, but that was another stage name. He was never given a real name." Hunter had turned on the couch to face the other woman.

"I don't really understand, weren't Wolf and Phoenix born into slavery?"

"Sometimes the breeders allow the infants to be named by their parents. They then give the baby the company name as a last name. Wolf is Mathew Shepherd, Shepherd Haulers Ltd."

"Oh." A pregnant pause. "What were the twins called?" The guilt was clear in her voice.

"They never had a different name. I think they were named after their father. He was called The Bear, made them look small. I saw him fight once, it was all raw power. He got killed about eight years ago." Even as she spoke she could see the questions swimming in the other woman's eyes.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Hay, I'm yours."

"Funny. You don't have to answer this, okay?" On receiving a nod she continued. "I read the literature about you and it said you killed one of your owners, is it true?"

Knowing that a simple yes or no wouldn't be enough Hunter took a deep breath. "Until I was eleven I was a sex slave. All the times that I came back here covered in bruises, they were from servicing men...Well, some of them were from punishment, but mainly they were gained in service. I was used to it, I'd probably still be doing it now, but one day a customer came to the club that my master owned and started to assault one of the maids. She was my friend, so when I saw what was going on I knew I had to help her. I grabbed the handle from a broom she'd been using and hit him in the head as hard as I could. I must have caught a soft spot because I knocked him out cold. Unfortunately I was seeing red and dived on his unconscious body and strangled the guy. He died."

"What happened to the girl?" Francesca was pretty sure who the maid was, but needed conformation.

"They were going to have me exterminated, killing the free is a big 'no-no'. Jordan, the maid, told them what had happened, but that didn't save me. It was the fact that I had killed him with my bare hands that kept me alive. My master sent me to a gladiator stable so I could still make him money. He knew I was friends with Jordan, so to keep me sweet he let her visit me and made no reprisal against her."

"What happened to her? If she was free, why did she still work in a place like that? You told me about a girl called Jordan the last time you came home, you said she was four years older. Why was she working?" The questions flew out of her mouth before she could censor them.

"Her mum was a maid, she would come and help her out when she wasn't at school. Mainly the guests left the free girls alone, they were mainly too old for their tasts anyway. Her family had been working for my master for years, that's why they stuck around." She had to look away from the other woman, letting her eyes drift down to her hands in her lap. "She was my lover, after a while. We loved each other a lot, so even when she could get another job she stayed to be with me. I started a bit of a revolt when I was sixteen. I was idealistic and thought we should be free, it scared the establishment. They tortured me a lot but I just kept on going. I should have stopped, I wish I had every day. They killed her to teach me a lesson. They showed me her mangled body a couple of days after they told me. There was no doubt it was her."

Francesca found herself once again stunned by the tragedy of the other woman's life. I must not cry reverberated through her mind, she knew that Hunter would not appreciate it. "Is that why you didn't want me to know who you were?"

A bark of mirthless laughter. "That's why I stopped caring."

"Mama, I need a glass of water!" The sound of Terrance's voice stopped any response Francesca may have made. She looked sheepishly at her companion before she went to fulfil her son's demand.

As she passed through the door to the temporary nursery, she heard Hunter whisper. "Damn you and your kids for making me start again." Francesca had to stifle a sob on hearing those words. She quickly moved towards her little boy, who seemed to have gone back to sleep.

**********  
Sabina let herself into the apartment at ten. She came every Monday, Wednesday and Friday to clean up Mr Rose's home. Considering he had only been home for a few days he had managed to mess up the place quite well. This was only the second time that she had cleaned since he had arrived on Sunday and to her amazement the place looked rather tidy. Knowing that Mr Rose rarely made his own bed she made her way to his room first, ready to start her routine.

Lifting her cleaning supplies in her left hand she reached out with her right to open the door. She pushed it open and headed in. Her forward momentum was halted as she looked at the bed and the carnage that lay around it. There lay Mr Rose, or what she thought was Mr Rose, in a pool of his own blood. The bed was saturated, gore from the head had oozed onto the pillow and the carpet.

Sabina stood transfixed by the horror until her stomach rebelled and she found herself on the floor retching onto the carpet. Once she finished vomiting she ran from the room with the taste of bile fresh in her mouth. The frantic woman rushed to the phone, knocking over a flowerpot in her haste. She dialled the emergency number and waited impatiently.

"This is emergency, which service do you require?" The operators voice was bland and emotionless.

In speech almost too rapid to be understood the cleaning lady relayed what she had found. At once a squad car was dispatched to the scene. Poor Sabina would have to stay with the body until the authorities arrived. The receiver hit the floor with a thud as the young woman feinted.


	14. Chapter 14

She sat with her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. Occasionally she would look out at the water while brushing a stray tear from her cheek. She couldn’t stay in the house, it felt too small and the walls were pushing in on her. She knew she should stay for her children, they were scared and crying for a daddy who would never come home. She had calmed them down and put them to bed, but could not watch over them. Her mother seemed to understand and patted her daughters shoulder as she left the room.

She had run from the house to this place, her sanctuary. She knew that it was foolish to leave the house alone, but she couldn’t stay. In her shocked state she managed to rationalise her recklessness, the police were crawling all over the estate so she wasn’t in danger. It wasn’t true, she knew it, the stalker could be anywhere, be anyone yet she had ceased to care. Life wasn’t supposed to be this way.

When she was young she had wanted a life like her parents shared. She thought that she had found that with Douglas. When they met she had still been an impressionable teenager and he seemed like a prince charming to match her princess. He was intelligent and funny, he engaged her in a way that nobody had since she was a child. He seemed perfect, so when he asked her to marry him she had jumped at the chance. They had three beautiful children, just like her parents so why weren’t they happy? She hadn’t worked that out until the threats started coming and now he was dead.

A throat cleared somewhere behind her and she instantly knew that it was Hunter. She felt the fear in the pit of her stomach loosen it’s hold on her at the sound. Her protector was here, she would be alright. She didn’t turn to the other woman, but remained staring at the calm water.

"Um...I have no idea what to do, but can I sit down?" Hunter seemed hesitant and shy, not something the singer associated with her. Francesca patted the ground beside her and Hunter lowered herself to a cross legged position.

Hunter studied the other woman’s profile. She couldn’t help but be in awe of the face so close to her own. Francesca was an incredibly gorgeous woman and Hunter was only human. Silently she traced the contours of her cheeks, the dip of her nose, the strong chin that was quivering as her eyes passed over it. Tears slipped slowly over those cheeks leaving their sorrowful trail.

"You really loved him?" It just sort of slipped out before Hunter could stop herself.

Francesca nodded without turning her head. Hunters face screwed up in consternation. How could this rich, successful woman actually love a man who beat her? The thought was totally incomprehensible to her. The idea of the other woman having such strong feelings for the man also troubled her and she couldn’t understand why.

"Look I know that it’s out of line, but I have to ask this. Why?"

Francesca looked at her for the first time, her eye’s bleak. "Why what?"

"Why did you love him, after what he did to you?"

"You’re right, you don’t understand. He was so kind and loving when we met that I fell in love with him. He was a great husband until the twins came. I had depression and he just drifted away from me. It was really my fault."

"How can you say that? If he loved you he would have supported you, not hit you!"

"He only did it when he was frustrated. I know he loved me!"

"Well that’s alright then!" The sarcasm oozed from her words.

Francesca wanted to lash out at the body beside her. How could she talk about Douglas like this? The man was dead! He had been a good husband and father. She looked at her childhood friend and realised, for the first time that they would never again be the friends that they had been in their youth. Their lives were too different.

"What do you know about love anyway?" She wanted to take the words back as she saw the total agony pass over Hunter’s face.

"I know what love is. Love is looking into someone’s eyes and seeing your whole future there. It’s pain and sacrifice and joy. It’s your entire world coming to an end when they’re gone...Is that how you feel? Will your world never be the same?" It was the slaves turn to focus on the water.

Francesca thought hard about what the other woman said. Would her world be irrevocably shattered by his absence? She found herself coming to the same conclusion again and again, she would go on. Already she was contemplating her next relationship, whether she would find somebody else and have more children. She found that she could not understand the depth of the other woman’s pain even though

she herself was the recently bereaved.

"Is that how you felt about..." For some reason she couldn’t bring herself to save the name.

"Jordan? Yeah, I mean we were really young, but you grow up fast when you have to. I haven’t felt like a child since I lived here. She used to look at me with this look of devotion on her face that I knew was reflected on mine." Suddenly realising who she was talking to and what she was saying Hunter clamed up. This did not go unnoticed by the brunette.

Francesca realised how hard this was for her companion. She was strong and stoic, forced into herself by circumstances. She suddenly felt very small and scared sitting with such a strong woman. She wanted to be comforted, but she also wanted to comfort. She hesitantly moved closer to the muscular body and rapped her arm around the strong shoulders. Hunter tensed, her body turning to stone. Nobody touched her, she was not a thing, but this was Chess. As much as she had told the other women that they were not the same, that she did not care for her in that way now, they would always have their time in this place. Francesca needed a shoulder to cry on, she could be that. She wished she’d had one.

Francesca felt the tension ease from the other body and stopped herself form pulling away. As she felt Hunter relax she leaned into her warm body and rested her head on a broad shoulder. Instantly a wave of peace flowed over her, Douglas’ death and the threats to her life seemed very far away. She felt herself begin to drift in this safe haven. She gave into the tranquil feelings and began to doze.

*********

Hunter heard the police before they reached the clearing. Not wanting the other woman to be embarrassed by their intimate position she gently shook her awake. Francesca came to with a start, pulling quickly away from the slave and wrapping her arms around herself. Hunter tried to explain but was silenced when three police officers crashed out of the tree line.

"Mrs Rose?" The first uniformed officer said, looking at the singer.

"Yes?"

"Mrs Rose, you need to come to the station and make a statement. We have a car waiting." He ushered the woman towards him.

Francesca stood and walked towards the uniformed men. Hunter made a move towards her mistress and found herself held back by the youngest if the three cops. Francesca noticed this and motioned with her eyes for Hunter to stay calm. She turned her attention to the officer standing beside her.

"You don’t have to restrain her, she’d my bodyguard."

"We know that, ma’am. Your slave also needs to come for questioning." His voice was cool and distant. "We really need to go." He turned and strode into the foliage. Francesca followed at a more sedate pace.

Behind the two retreating figures Hunter found herself forcefully pushed forward by one of the two young me. As she put out her hands to stop her forward motion she found herself grabbed by the shoulders. With an officer on each side she was yanked off of her feet and roughly hauled in the same direction as Francesca who had disappeared out of sight many minutes before. Allowing her body to go limp in their grasp she gave in to the humiliation of being man handled.

With the decline in racism in capitalist countries and the recognition of gay marriage, people’s prejudices had become focused in new directions. The ever growing slavery market had produced an underclass who could be treated badly with no recourse. Slaves had become the whipping boys of the world, they could be blamed for negligent actions and beating them was no crime. The worst offenders were not those who owned slaves, they had made an investment. Those who could not afford slaves, the common man, took out their resentment on other peoples property.

The two young officers would never make enough money to live like the Prince family. In ten lifetimes they wouldn’t make enough money to own seven slaves. It was human nature. Therefore Hunter was not surprised when she was thrown to the floor just inside the tree line and kicked repeatedly in the ribs. She didn’t cry out, this was a pain she was familiar with.

"I saw this one in action once at the arena, not just on TV, it was amazing! Wait till I tell the guys that I got to fight her!" The red haired man looked like he’d just won the lottery.

"This is hardly fighting, Nick." Even as he said it the dark haired man kept a lookout.

"Yeah, well as I see it, she panicked and resisted us and we had to ‘subdue’ her." He looked speculatively at his partner.

"Whatever, you’ve had your fun. We better get her to the car otherwise they’ll come looking for us." They once again picked her up of the floor and dragged her along. They began to talk over her head, acting as if she wasn’t there. "I heard that she used to be a pleasure slave."

"Nah, look at her! She’s built like a tank."

"She is cute though, Nick."

The other man’s response was cut short as they came within view of the house and the many milling police officers. They quickly moved towards the police car, waiting on the gravel driveway. Nick yanked open the door and the two men all but threw the limp body into the seat. Before she was even settled the door was slammed behind her, leaving her in the car with Francesca.

"That took a while?"

"They were fans." It was gritted out between clenched teeth.

"I know about that."

The drivers door was suddenly opened and a uniformed figure positioned them self behind the wheel. With a look in the rear view mirror to check the passengers, the cop turned on the ignition and put the car into gear. With a wave to one of the surrounding officers they were off. Once they were on their way the cop activated the privacy-style screen which separated the officer from any criminal in the rear. This allowed Francesca the privacy to compose herself. Deep in her own thoughts, the singer did not see her partners pain.


	15. Chapter 15

Hunter had felt pain before, had been bathed in it. She had been beaten for as long as she could remember and had learned how to block it out, but this time it was different. In the back of the cruiser the pain washed over her, not the physical pain of broken ribs and bruised wrists, this was the psychological pain of hatred. Since Jordan, she had not been human, the injustices upon her ignored as unimportant. The Prince’s had changed that. She was learning how to be a person again, still owned, but an individual in her own right. She had felt the same when Francesca had slapped her, only this was magnified ten times because it was fuelled not by grief, but by blind hatred.

In her turmoil the warrior tilted her head back, feel white hot pain seer through her skull at this action. She let out a hiss of pain, God damn sons of bitches musta hit me in the head. The sound of the other woman’s pain made Francesca snap out of her own revelry, locking blue eyes on her companion.

"Hunter, what happened back there?" She had been mulling over the other woman’s words since the car set out and could no longer hold back her curiosity.

"I think I got a concussion." At least that would explain her dour thoughts.

"What the hell did those officers do to you? I want a straight answer Hunter." She may not be totally comfortable with the shorter woman, but she still did not want to see her hurt.

"I told you, they were fans." At the glare she received from the brunette, the blond sighed and told Francesca about the beating she had received at the hands of the two young officers. "People need something to hate, that’s us. I’m a famous face to most freemen, an easy target. Those boys were just doing what anybody else would have done under the circumstances. It’s happened before." Involuntarily she looked away from her owner as she said this. A wave of sadness washed over Francesca as she realised she had done the same thing.

"You listen to me, that will never happen again. I promise. You will never know how sorry I am for hitting you, and if anybody does this again I will have them up on charges." Francesca was on a role. The whirlwind of emotions she had been feeling since she found out about Douglas’ death in the early hours of the morning would not let her stop. "You have protected me and, more than that, you have become a comfort for me. I know I own you, but you didn’t have to do that. Thank you." The last was said softly, almost reverently.

Hunter saw the truth in the other woman’s eyes. Her own thoughts were fuzzy, her mind not providing her with any response to the other woman’s sincerity. She simply allowed her keeper to look into her eye’s and see the acceptance there. As she opened her mouth to speak, having finally found the words, the cruiser sped over a decidedly bumpy piece of road. The jarring thud sent another lance of pain through her head. Her words coming out as a whimper.

For the second time that day, Francesca found herself reaching out to the stoic slave, and putting her arm around her shoulders. The tensing of the smaller body was becoming almost familiar, but Francesca did not let go. Instead she drew closer to the fighter, knowing that eventually the rigour would melt away. She was right, and as the shorter woman relaxed the heiress guided her head to her shoulder, shielding her as best she could from the movement of the car.

Hunter wanted to fight, wanted to pull away from the comfort of the other woman. She shouldn’t be taking comfort in the warmth of her body, the way she smelt, but it was no use. It had been so long since somebody had held her, had tried to give her comfort and sooth her pain, that she couldn’t be bothered to fight. Melting completely into the embrace she allowed her guard to drop. The officer would protect Francesca, she almost let the pain lull her into sleep.

"Hay, none of that. You need to stay awake if this is concussion. Hay, do you remember my sixth birthday?" She knew that this, at least would be a happy memory.

"Yeah, the look on your fathers face when that pony crapped on his foot." A rueful smile lit up the tired face.

The two woman continued to talk about inconsequential things as the car sped onwards. They both needed to be distracted, one from the pain of death, the other from the pain of hatred. Neither of them noticed the eyes glaring at them from the rear-view mirror.

**********

The uniformed woman seated in the drivers seat could not keep her eyes away from the two passengers in the rear of the cruiser. She could not believe what she was seeing. How dare she touch her like that! Her eyes slitted further as she focused her glare solely on Francesca Prince. You will pay for what you have done to her.

Her eyes rested on Hunter, sagged in the chair beside her owner. What has she done to you? He eyes softened briefly as she drank in the sight of the smaller woman, before reluctantly turning her attention back to the road.

**********

Knowing something and feeling it are two completely different things, mused Hunter as she followed her ward down a crowded corridor. Intellectually, even in her headache clouded mind, she knew that the police precinct was the safest place for her to be. Yet her instincts screamed at her to get out of there. People were milling about everywhere, both cops and criminals, blocking their path as they moved through the dingy foyer. Too many people.

Francesca, once again, was oblivious to Hunters turmoil. She went with her head. Police equalled protection to the young woman, and with her warrior at her back, nothing could touch her here. She waked quickly up to the reception desk, wanting this chapter of her life to close as quickly as possible. She simply wanted to go home and console her children in the wake of this tragedy.

"Excuse me, Officer....Dent." She paused to read the paunchy mans name badge. He looked up from his paperwork, a bored expression on his face. "Um, I need to give a statement to Detective Reed? I’m Francesca Rose?"

The middle aged man looked the beautiful woman in front of him up and down. His son had pictures of her plastered all over his bedroom walls. Wonder if I can get an autograph? When his eyes travelled past her and landed on the scared and glowering face at his shoulder he turned his attention to his computer.

"Where is Officer Daniels?" At the puzzled look he received from the brunette he continued. "The officer who drove you in, young blond?"

"Oh, she stayed outside."

"That can’t have been Daniels." He rapidly typed onto his keypad.

"Why?"

"Daniels is a... Hello Officer Daniels." A young man in his early twenties approached the desk, smiling. "I thought you were picking up Mrs Rose?" He nodded in her direction.

"No, she had already left in cruiser 412, I followed. Hello ma’am." The desk officer looked disturbed by this, but let it go for the moment.

"I’ll have to report this to Detective Reed. Take these ladies up to interview rooms 2 and 9. Please followed the Officer." No autograph today.

The women shared a look, before Francesca broke into stride with the beaming young man. That he was one of the record buying public was obvious as he bounded around the star like an excited puppy. Hunter looked on, a rueful expression on her face. Another one’s fallen for you, but whether she was thinking of the boy or herself she couldn’t be sure.

**********

Interview room 2

Francesca sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair and waited for her lawyer to arrive. She knew that police interviews could not begin without counsel, but she hadn’t anticipated him taking this ling. An hour had passed since she was ushered into this sterile room, and the rigours of the day were beginning to tell on her. She hoped that Carlos Holt, of ‘Holt, Stand and Delmar Associates’ would arrive soon.

For what felt like the hundredth time, but was probably only the tenth, she studied the few objects inside the room. Three blue chairs, identical to the one she sat on, surrounded a heavy metal table which was bolted to the floor. Two chairs on each side. The table held a state of the art voice recorder. The walls, floor and ceiling were all in matching grey. the room was designed to feel oppressive and it worked admirably well. On one grey wall perched a clock, ticking the time away.

I hope he gets here soon....

Interview room 9

"You were heard threatening the victim." Detective Reed locked brown eyes with unnatural blue.

The state appointed attorney that showed up to represent the slave was little more than a boy, barely out of law school. He was eager and earnest, but totally out of his depth. Hunter turned to him and saw the look of panicked confusion cross his smooth face, she could barely stop herself from rolling her eyes. Looks like I’m on my own, nothing new there. She gave the young man a reassuring nod and turned to the interrogating officer.

"I am Mrs Rose’s bodyguard. I found Mr Rose hitting her one evening and stopped it. I simply let him know that his actions would not be tolerated in the future." Hunter could be as articulate as the next body slave. It was all part of the service.

Reed looked at the slave sitting across from him. In his youth he had watched his parents picket for slavery to be abolished. He shared their views, yet he could not share their conviction as a police officer. The cherubic faced woman sitting in front of him would be an easy scapegoat for the investigating if anybody else was running it. He smiled inwardly, glad that he had been in the right place at the right time. Everybody deserved to be given the benefit of the doubt. His inner thoughts did not show on his face, which remained an impassive mask.

"Where were you on the night of the murder?" He had to ask.

Hunter almost let out a bark of laughter at the ridiculous question. Almost.

Interview room 2

"You and your husband had recently separated, is that correct?"

"Yes." Francesca looked towards her Lawyer as she answered and received a reassuring nod. Reed noticed this and filed it away with the rest of his observations about this woman. There was something cagey about her answers, especially regarding her time with the bodyguard in room 9.

"Why did you and your husband separate?"

"I don’t want to talk about it." Her face set, and a sense of panic washed through her. She didn’t want to dredge up her marital problems in front of strangers, especially not now.

Reed slammed his hand onto the shiny surface of the table and stood abruptly. He was suddenly looming over the seated woman, his chair pushed far behind him, teetering to a standstill. He glared down at the rapidly paling woman.

"You don’t seem to understand how this works Mrs Rose. Your husband has been murdered and we are trying to find the killer. You are a suspect and as such you are expected to answer my questions." His voice was low, menacing.

"Detective, I suggest you sit down. As I was led to understand, my client is not under arrest and as such does not have to be here. She has agreed to answer your questions, and has done so. This interview is over." Carlos locked eyes with the detective, daring him to keep them there.

"Interview terminated, index time." A soft hiss indicated that the recorder had logged the time and switched itself off. "You are free to go, but we will be in touch with you very soon. Don’t leave the state." Reed stayed seated as he watched the shaken young woman be escorted from the room by the elderly Hispanic lawyer.

He began to tap the tip of his pen on his writing pad, examining the reactions of the woman who had just left more than the words. He pursed his lips, realising that she had gone from just nervous to tense, her answers had grown more and more guarded. This was a woman with something to hide.

FRANCESCA ROSE

The name was bold on the page, like a bloodstain. He stared at it for a few moments before circling it, his pencil snapping with force of his hand. He laid the pencil down, reaching for his phone and dialling a number.

"I want everything you have on Francesca Rose, personal and profession...Especially that....I want to know the tiniest detail about the separation, whether they were divorcing and why." He hung up before he could get an answer.

He turned his eyes back to the name on the page. It was always good to have a suspect in the frame.


	16. Chapter 16

It was a suburban street, much like any other. Children, too young for school, played on manicured green in front of their whitewashed homes. Young men and women watched over their progeny, while others mowed a square of paradise. The idyllic scene was marred by one house, standing out darkly against the pristine white around it.

The white paint work had long since turned grey. Huge chunks of bare wood could be seen through the flaking veneer. Neglect showed in everything, the lawn was overgrown, trees hanging hunch shouldered over a rocky path. Weeds peeked out between paving, creating a treacherous journey to a scarred front door.

Light shone through the dirty windows, tracing a path through tattered blinds to hit the rooms within. The thin beads of light provided the only illumination in the bare room. Where a family should have sat and watched television, laughed and played, there was only dust. Through an open doorway the kitchen was visible. Dirty plates stacked to the ceiling, filth covered the floor and cockroaches could be seen scuttling away from the light.

In the basement a figure paced, bathed not in the light of day but in the fluorescence of a television screen. Weird shadows were cast as a moving body blocked the light from hitting the wall. The basement was as full of clutter as the rest of the house was empty. A beaten sofa sat before a huge television screen. A moth-eaten carpet lay across the floor, balding in places. Yet no art coloured the walls, nothing gave away the true personality of the owner.

With a loud sigh of frustration a lean body threw itself onto the beaten sofa, settling as the furniture creaked with the weight of her body. Her eyes skittered over the television screen, taking in and rejecting the information it displayed. Her gaze sped away and landed on the open door of the basement and the clothes that hung there. A pristine blue uniform was hooked there, almost gleaming in the dull light.

"How could she act like that?" The voice was eerily loud in the otherwise quiet room.

Maybe they're friends?

"How could they be friends after what that witch and her family have done to her?"

People can forgive...

"NO!" It was a frenzied shout. "You can't forgive that!"

This is human nature...

"Slavery is wrong, men and women should be free."

Your not.

"I am. I chose this crusade. When there are no more slaves I'll be free."

You live in a cage of your own making.

"She will look at me with, see Me, when I set her free."

If she doesn't...

"She will..."

But if she doesn't?

"Selfish bitch!" An ashtray flew across the room, shattering as it hit the wall.

How selfish? She is a slave.

"Everything is for her! I have sacrificed for her!"

She never asked.

"We pledged to be together."

She did not abandon you.

"She let the witch touch her!"

She was obviously disorientated.

"They must drug her." It was like a light-bulb going off above her head.

This is ridiculous....

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" The slender woman threw herself off the sofa. Her body hit the coffee table, sending its contents crashing to the floor.

Suddenly the basement seemed too small, she had to get out. She ran from the room and up the decaying flight of stairs. The faster she ran the louder the pounding of blood in her ears became, drowning out the voices. She had to get away from the voices. They challenged her conviction and questioned her motives. She must run, she mustn't loose focus. So she ran through the house and out the door, flinging it out of the way.

As she stepped onto the unkempt lawn at the back of the building she stopped. The light streamed down on her, bathing her in heat. She kept still, like a cornered animal. Her chest heaved and her eyes darted from side to side, alert for danger. Warey of prying eyes.

Slowly she began to calm. The warm, bright sunlight burning away the sound of the voices, like morning fog. Shallow breaths calmed to deep breaths as a calm settled on her. Her resolve began to reassert itself. Standing firm, a smile inched its way onto her lips as she looked up, allowing herself to bask in the purity of the light....

**********  
In the basement the uniform still rested against the door, alone. The room was dark now, the television blank. On the floor laid scattered cigarette ends and cans, fallen riders of the tables surface. In amongst the refuse lay a brown paper file. Bold against the cardboard a white label stood out starkly, proclaiming a name....

FRANCESCA ROSE


	17. Chapter 17

Uniforms swarmed over the house searching for evidence, like workers ants busily gathering food. The grey haired man looked on in bemusement, his blue eyes roaming his estate. He was a little perplexed by their actions, were protecting his home or trying to find evidence against his daughter? It is was the latter, he was confident that they would find nothing. Francesca was a gentle soul and just not strong enough, physically or emotionally, to beat a man to death. Although, he couldn't find it in his heart to hate the person who did. Not after what Douglas had done to his baby.

Salvatore turned to the man by his side. "How much longer will your people be here?" It had already been a week.

"We'll be out of your hair by the end of the day, Mr Prince. I plan on leaving a police presence here, just in case the bomber strikes again." The chubby, red faced, police inspector did not wish to antagonise the billionaire.

"Good." Salvatore turned on his heels and strolled back to the house.

**********  
"Mama, where's Trish?" Asked the bemused young woman.

"Contrary to popular belief, and what your father might say, I am capable of cooking a meal. Pass me the paprika." She took the jar from her statuesque daughter. "Anyway, Trish has the week off." Darla was engrossed in her preparations and missed the smirk that spread across Francesca's face.

Before the singer could make another comment about her mothers culinary expertise the door to the kitchen banged open. Two small children and one flushed adult barrelled through it. Hunter pulled out a kitchen chair and fell down into it, the little bundle in her arms held with great care. She placed the now wriggling Becca onto the floor and seemed to deflate into the seat.

Francesca and Darla shared a raised eyebrow as they watched the uncharacteristic actions of the bodyguard. For her not to acknowledge them as she entered was out of character enough, but to presume to sit in her owners presence without permission was unthinkable. Mother and daughter were quite pleased at this turn of events, for although the bodyguards were still slaves, they were trying to make each of them feel more at ease in the house. The other four were settling into this new degree of freedom with quickly, Hunter, however, seemed to be looking for the catch.

Terrance noticed the exchange of looks between his mother and grandmother and couldn't wait to reveal what he knew. "Mama, Hunter has a cold. She sounds just like that elephant on the TV." He beamed up at his tall mother, before rushing to his grandma for a hug. Rochel was close on his heels for some familial attention.

"Hunter?" The other woman didn't even turn her head, seeming to be in a world of her own. Francesca walked to her side and looked more closely at her face. Not only was the warriors face unusually red, her skin looked clammy. In the age old tradition of mothers everywhere Francesca reached out and laid a cool hand on the smaller woman's forehead.

The touch on her face startled Hunter out of her near catatonic state. It shocked her so much that she fell out of her chair and crashed to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs. The brunette barely held back her mirth at seeing the other woman in such a state of disarray, she was usually so in control.

"I'mb sorry. I should have asked... Atchooo!..." A genuinely pathetic look spread across the usually stoic face.

"Hunter, do you have a cold?" The warrior nodded mutely. "Have you had a cold before?" The same head shook. "I think we should get you to bed."

"I never get sick." The artificially blue eyes were filled with bewilderment. "It's all because my implant is switched off, makes me imbune...." She trailed off with a sniff.

"Francesca, take that girl to the day room and get her to lay down." Darla took charge, as was her right as matriarch of the family. She could see the older girl was about to abject. "You will do as I say, young lady. I think we can take care of you for a few days. There are police everywhere, so you don't need to worry about your duties. Now scoot, I'll make you some tea, you used to like that when you were a little girl." She got a forlorn nod in response as the shorter figure followed Francesca out of the room. Becca hurriedly following in their wake.

Terrance and Rochel briefly looked up from their colouring, but quickly dismissed the adults antics in favour of their own. Darla beamed at the two children, just like old times.

********  
"Hunter, Hunter." The singer was becoming frustrated with her patient. "Rhani, if you don't lay still I am going to tie you to that sofa!"

Becca's eyes grew wide as she heard her mama use that tone. Mama only used that tone when she was mad at them, but trying not to show it. It was even more dangerous when Mama used their full names. Becca always knew that she was in trouble when she got called Rebecca. The little girl started to giggle, Hunter was in sooo much trouble.

"Sorry." Hunter spoke in a little voice, her eyes wide and dejected. It made Francesca's heart melt.

"You know, I don't remember you be this pathetic when we were kids?"

"You must have a really selective memory, darling." Interjected Darla as she walked into the room. Terrance held the door open for his grandmother who was burdened with a tray of tea and cookies. "She was never a good patient, she'd only keep still if you watched cartoons together. So falling back on an old tradition, you two girls can watch cartoons and the children can keep and eye on you." The older woman was positively glowing. "That way I'll have you all out of my hair while I finish preparing dinner." She put the tray on the table and after giving the slave a smile she was gone.

Anyone looking in would see a picture of domesticity. Two of the children sat cross legged in from of the television, absorbed in the antics of a cartoon cat. Behind them, equally engrossed laid one prone adult. Their mother sat in an armchair with her smallest child ensconced in her lap. The room was quiet except for the sounds emanating from the screen and the occasional munching of biscuits and slurping of tea.

Francesca was watching Hunter as Hunter watched the television. The expressions that flittered across the cherubic face were mesmerising, she hadn't seen the other woman so animated since they were children. Little did she realise that her own face was reflecting her pleasure.

Becca tugged on her mothers sleeve and as the tall brunette looked down at her she whispered in her ear. Francesca beamed down at the little girl. Francesca nodded in answer to her daughters, then watched as the child climbed off her lap and walked over to the invalid.

Becca tapped the gladiator on the shoulder to get her attention. Hunter turned her head towards the serious girl. "Can I sit with you?"

The sniffing adult looked towards her owner, her eyebrows raised in inquiry. "It's alright. The kids have been inoculated against everything, you can't give them your germs."

Taking that as a yes, Becca clambered up next to Hunter, placing herself between the muscular body and the back of the couch. Within minutes she was sound asleep, showing that she was still suffering the lingering affects of the bombing. Hunter absently stroked the child's hair. In a low voice, so as not to attract the attention of Rochel and Terrance, she began talking with Francesca.

"You don't seem worried."

"Why should I be? There haven't been any letters or phone calls since.... Anyway, there are police crawling over the place. Papa said that they are going to leave a presence when they are finished." Francesca didn't want to talk about what had happened to Douglas, especially not in front of the children. They had been told their father was dead and seemed to be taking it in stride, using the resilience that children seemed to possess.

"That's not what I meant. The police suspect you..."

"Why should I worry about that? I'm innocent. It's obvious that my stalker was really after Douglas, that's why the threats have stopped. They've got what they wanted. I'm sure that once the police have finished with their investigation they'll have the culprit and we'll be safe." Francesca seemed so certain and happy that Hunter didn't want to rain on her parade.

Hunter didn't share the other woman's confidence. Deep inside she had the sinking suspicion that Douglas' murder was just the tip of a very large iceberg. Francesca was in the frame, and without any further threats things didn't look good for her. The fact that the police had no physical evidence meant very little, considering that they couldn't place anybody else at the scene either. The warriors head began to ache, too much thinking was not good for somebody with a head full of mucus. She let out a pitiful groan.

"I feel like a snot goblin!"

Two tawny heads swivelled in her direction with the speed of light. She was suddenly bombarded with two more bodies as Rochel and Terrance settled themselves on top of her, jostling their sister awake. Three small faces looked at her expectantly, wanting to know all about Snot Goblins. Francesca fell about laughing at the panicked expression on her patients face. She returned a look which said, very firmly, your on your own. She couldn't wait to hear this.

**********  
"Sal, have you seen Francesca's watch?" Darla was still bustling around the kitchen.

Salvatore looked up from his position at the kitchen table, the newspaper spread out in front of him. "No, should I have?"

"I just thought she left it on the window ledge while we were cooking." She shook her head. "She must have taken it with her. But I could have sworn..."

In the day room, Francesca glanced at her watch, only to realise that it wasn't on her wrist. Must have left it in the kitchen. She turned back to the sleeping quartet on the sofa and relaxed. Just for now, all was right in the world.

**********  
The silver watch disappeared into a dark pocket, ready to join its fellow souvenirs back in a suburban house.


	18. Chapter 18

It was a dull day, overcast as though the sun itself had put on its mourning suit. Thankfully the rain had stopped while the funeral party were inside the church. The service was long, the priest highlighting, so it would seem, every achievement in Douglas' life. The church was packed, Douglas having been a popular man both in his business and personal life. Even Francesca found that she could forgive his trespasses against her, after his tragic death. She couldn't say the same of her father. Or her bodyguard.

After the final hymn, Amazing Grace, the priest dismissed the congregation so that they could begin the arduous trek to the cemetery. Into the first of the huge limousine's filed Douglas' parents, followed by Francesca and their three children, Hunter also joined them. Shep and Morgan sat along side the driver. There would be no complacency, especially now. The funeral had a police escort to ensure no attacks would mark this day.

In the back of the limo the twin rows of seats faced each other. Designed to carry six adults, Doug Rose Sr. and his wife Patricia faced the driver, with Mr. Rose on the left. Patricia sat between her husband and her grandson. Francesca sat facing her former mother-in-law, seated as she was in the between her twin daughters. The more pugnacious of the two, Rochel, resolutely sat in her own chair, facing her big brother, but her warm little hand was firmly encased in her mothers. Becca sat on the lap of her human security blanket, with Hunters arm wrapped firmly around her. She held Francesca's free hand. The two elder Rose's didn't spare a glance for the tall brunette.

Francesca had never been comfortable at funerals. She was usually surrounded by her parents and brothers. Now she had to be the strong one, for her children. It was a difficult task, made more so by the open hostility coming at her. She was thankful that Patricia was looking out for Terrance. The older woman would ruffle his hair and squeeze his hand when he looked close to tears. He looks just like his father, both women thought.

Rochel snuggled up to her mama, still clasping the long-fingered hand, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension between the adults. On Francesca's other side, the usually shy Becca smiled sweetly at her grandfather. She wasn't less upset than her brother and sister, but she wanted him to stop looking at Hunter like he wanted to ground her, or something. It seemed to be working, he was now pulling funny faces at the little girl.

Hunter felt strangely at ease in the back of the huge car. Here she could lend her strength to Francesca and the children. For the duration of the brief journey, inside the confines of the car, she could be Francesca's equal. The little girl on her lap made her feel more trusted than she could have expressed. She knew that Terrance and Rochel accepted her as part of their lives, but Becca seemed to embrace it. Hunter had expected the children to treat her like a pet, yet they respected her and the other slaves. As she sat being glowered at by Douglas' father, with one arm wrapped around Becca's waist, Hunter was content.

Francesca reached for Becca's hand, having released it to pass a tissue to her son. Instead of grasping the child's small hand she found herself holding Hunters, where it lay between them. She shot a look towards her in-laws, who were pointedly not looking at her and felt relief wash over her. She felt Hunter squeeze her hand reassuringly before pulling away to wrap both arms around the dozing form in her arms. Anybody looking at the heiress at that moment would have seen a look of total adoration cross her face as she look at the tableau beside her.

**********

"Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Amen." The priest closed his Bible and stood silently by the graveside.

The assembled friends and family of Douglas Rose Jr. bowed their heads as the coffin ended it's descent. Patricia and Doug Sr. threw roses onto the casket, followed by a handful of earth. Francesca also took a handful of consecrated earth from the proffered box and cast it downwards. The three children stepped in front of their mother, each with a token of love in their hands.

Terrance was the first to step forward, letting a letter fall from his hand. The envelope carried his unique, childish scrawl. He looked down into the dark chasm of the grave and almost toppled forward. A hand shot out and grabbed his thin upper arm, gently pulling him back to his mother. The sad little boy sent a tearful smile of thanks to the silent figure standing beside his mother.

The twins stepped to the edge together, being careful not to stand as close as their brother. Rochel took her turn first, offering her daddy a lollipop that he had liked. As soon as it left her hand the distraught girl rushed into her mothers arms. When Becca stepped to forward she was still holding the slaves hand, a fact which did not go unnoticed by the other mourners. The final gift was a photo of the three children, that fluttered down to land, face up, on the polished wood.

Nathaniel and Rodrigo also threw a handful of the blessed earth onto the grave, followed by many of the assembled friends. When respect had been paid by each individual the group once again moved to the convoy of cars. For the journey to the wake Francesca once again suffered in silence under the piercing glare of a bereaved father and the tearful stare of a devastated mother.

**********

"Well I heard that the forensics people couldn't find any evidence in the apartment." Fat man.

"Yes, apparently the coroner couldn't hold the body any longer-no point as there was nothing there to find." Skinny redneck.

"Apparently the only way they could ID the body was through his genetic record..." The waiter moved away as the plump, overly made-up woman began gossiping.

The darkly dressed waiter moved around the room with a tray of drinks in his hands. His black waistcoat and tie made his white shirt stand out crisply. He criss-crossed the room, dancing an intricate ballet with his fellow servers, never visiting the same people. He approached a new group standing in the corner, ready to charge their glasses.

"The only fingerprints in the apartment were Douglas' and Francesca's." The smarmy young man took a wine flute.

"Well, duh. It was their home." His female companion still had a full glass.

"I agree with Teddy, it's all very mysterious. Nobody is that careful." An older, balding version of smarmy took two glasses.

"Well, Francesca is still a suspect..." Another of the young men in the group piped in as he took a drink.

The rest of the group declined drinks and the waiter once again moved off. He always got away from large groups of accountants as quickly as he could, he didn't want to become terminally dull. It could be contagious. He made his way steadily forward, towards the front of the room, stopping at group after group as he went.

"Can you believe the food? All the money they have..." Wheezed a thin old woman.

"It's not a party, Pearl. This is a wake." Her husband, poor bastard.

"That doesn't mean..."

"Have a canapé dear."

The waiter had to smile at the antics of the elderly couple, quickly wiping it off his face as he turned back to the room. It was never good to be caught smiling at a funeral. He was making steady progress towards the grieving family, each server took it in turns to serve the host family and soon it would be his. It put them more at ease. The closer he got to the front of the room the larger the groups of mourners became, seeming more like spectators than not. He picked up a new tray from one of the long tables and moved to the biggest group.

"Did you see them at the cemetery? It was disgusting!" The statuesque blond spat.

"From what I heard, it's been going on for months." This was the gossip mill.

"Douglas told me that she was with that slave when the house blew up." The suited man looked genuinely saddened as he talked about his friend.

"Well, she must be slumming it." This guy was full of himself, attractive and self centred. The waiter had seen a million of them.

"It's disgusting!" The blond again.

"You said." One of the other woman was looking bored and quickly snatched up more wine to pass the time.

"Not that, I mean laying with a slave." Didn't this chick ever shut up?

"Hunter was a sex slave, makes sense." Another of the jock-types piped up.

"Hunter is a cold blooded killer." At least one man in this group talked sense.

"True. But dangerous is alluring." Did that guy just wiggle his eyebrow?

"And sexy..."

The waiter couldn't believe what he was hearing and thanked god as the last glass disappeared off his tray. He really wanted to get as far away from these parasites as possible. He hadn't even known the man, but he would have shown more respect even if he wasn't getting paid.

Picking up yet another tray, he could finally go to the most important group in the room. The family.

**********

"You doing okay, little sis?" Rodrigo had sidled up to his sister while trying to escape from his escort.

"Yes, I really am. It's funny, but it's like we buried a stranger today." She couldn't resist leaning into her brother to take some of the weight off her aching feet.

"But your tired."

"Gee, your so perceptive." It came out more scathing than she had intended.

"So your taking this really well." His eyebrows were raised in her usual expression.

"I worry about the children, he was their father. And, its difficult not to feel guilty when his parents keep staring at me like I killed him..."

"You have nothing to feel guilty about." This was Nathaniel. Her older, more brooding brother seemed to lend a subtle strength to Rodrigo. Francesca looked between the two men and felt a sense of pride wash over her. These men would move Heaven and Earth for her, just because it might make her smile. These men knew that she could be anything she put her mind to. These men were helping to repair her damaged self-esteem.

"I love you Nat." A throat cleared. "You too Roddi." The threesome embraced under the watchful eyes of their proud father.

"Wine?"

**********

The five bodyguards stood close to Francesca and the children, watching the other guests as they milled around the room. The police stood around the perimeter of the room, watching doors and listening for stray conversation. The boys and girls in blue were still looking for a real lead, a suspect who wasn't the victims wife, and they were taking any opportunities that they could.

Hunter was vigilant, taking her responsibility to Francesca and the children very seriously, but she couldn't help observing her companions in this foreign setting. None of them had ever been to a funeral, let alone in a banqueting hall, yet here they were. It was overwhelming, especially as they had been told to eat what they wanted and drink moderately if they wished. Although Hunter doubted that Savage had heard the moderate part of that particular edict. He was knocking down the Champaign like it was water. As usual, Wolf and Phoenix looked poised and dignified a real credit to their owners. And Snake was, well he was Snake. Inscrutable and unblinking.

Soon Hunter was once again watching her childhood friend. It was so easy to just watch the statuesque woman move. She had a grace that she wasn't even aware of, something that Hunter had rarely seen. She had lived among people taught to move in certain ways for far too long not to be fascinated by natural motion. The way that she touched her brothers and relaxed with them was so different from the way she was soothed by her mother and protected by her father. A tugging on her pant legged pulled her from her silent musing. Looking down she saw Becca, frantically pulling the fabric.

"Yes?" The little girl beckoned her downwards, so Hunter crouched at her level.

Becca moved as close to Hunters ear as she could and whispered. "I need to go pee."

The bodyguard was charmed all over again by the child and rose in a fluid motion with the five year old in her arms. Hoisting her firmly onto her hip, she approached Darla Prince.

"Excuse me, Mrs Prince, Miss Rose needs the bathroom. I could take her, hardly seems worth a big group of us going since the police are here."

"Good idea Hunter, are you sure you can manage?" She received a bemused nod in response. "Fine. Could you take the other two as well? I'm sure they could do with a toilet break as well." The matriarch of the Prince dynasty walked over to her other two grandchildren. The little boy and girl were, seemingly, having an eating contest and the older woman couldn't help but wonder who would be sick first.

Shortly Hunter found herself with Becca on her right hip and Rochel on her left. Terrance Held onto his littlest sister's foot so as not to be separated from their protector. The former gladiator skirted the edge of the room, rather than cutting through it. She had heard some of the gossip and accusations that were flying around and didn't want her young wards to hear it. As she neared one of the side doors, leading to the most convenient washroom, she noticed the female officer on the door. Looking closely she recognised her as their driver on the day of Francesca's first interview. She even wore the same mirrored sunglasses as before. The officer held the door open for them and Hunter offered her a warm smile of thanks before quickly heading to the toilet. She didn't want a stain on her suit.

**********

She smiled at me today.

So beautiful.

I knew she'd recognise me.

I knew she'd remember.


	19. Chapter 19

"Um, is this really a good idea?"

Francesca turned from pulling on her wetsuit and what she saw almost made her burst out laughing. There stood Hunter looking like the worlds biggest three year old. Her bottom lip jutted out as she pouted and her wetsuit was twisted and uncomfortable looking. Her blond hair, recently cut short to loose the last of the blue dye, stuck up in every direction. A sure indication that she had been running sweaty hands through it.

"I know you can swim, Hunter. We've swum in the creek with the children lots of times." She pulled up the zipper on the back of the suite before moving towards the warrior. "What's wrong?"

Hunter was momentarily distracted by the feel of Francesca's hands on her shoulders, pulling the wrinkles out of the tight rubber. The elegant hands ran across her torso and down her arms settling the fabric more comfortably. Caught up in the sensations the other woman created in her, she was startled when blue eyes drilled right into her own.

"I, um, I hate being submerged. When I was trained to fight, they used to hold us under water to get our obedience." She saw the look of guilt pass behind the brunette's eyes. "I really do want to learn how to scuba dive." She didn't even convince herself.

"You should have said. There are a thousand things we could do on a beautiful day like this." She was thoughtful for a moment. When Hunter tried to speak she put a finger over impossibly soft lips. "We'll go jet skiing instead." This time she did laugh as Hunters eyebrows almost crawled off her forehead.

**********

Francesca bustled around the kitchen of her parents home. She was a women on a mission. Nothing would get in her way. She was making a birthday cake for her daughters if it killed her. Although, at this rate it might kill Hunter first.

"Shouldn't the cocoa powder go in the other bowl?" Hunter was hiding behind the recipe book.

"I know what I'm doing!" It was a snarl.

"Alright." Hunter slid further behind the kitchen table. She definitely didn't want to be wearing the cake mix.

"If mother can cook, then so can I. I have a recipe book, all the ingredients. Simple." She rubbed her cheek, leaving a white smudge in her wake. Simple, mused Hunter. She'd believe it when she saw it. The three times that she had seen Francesca cook had all ended in disaster. Thankfully she had not poisoned anybody yet.

"So, the twin's are six on Thursday?" Distract her, maybe that'd calm her down. Or maybe she'll forget what she's putting in the cake. Oh God, it could get worse.

Francesca didn't notice the other woman's sudden fidgeting, her attention was riveted on the cookery book. Absently she answered, "They're getting so big. Terry is eight and now my babies are six."

"Wish I could get them a present." It was a sigh.

"You don't have to ask my permission." She really wasn't paying much attention to her companion. She was comfortable enough to pay her no mind. Hunter wouldn't hurt her.

"Thank you, but I don't have any credit." The sadness in her voice did pull Francesca up short.

"You should make them something. Can you still make those dumplings? The ones with the red-stuff in them? You could make them a batch of those." She smiled brightly, remembering how good they tasted when she was a child.

"I could do that, but it doesn't seem like enough." Her head was bowed to the table.

Francesca crouched beside her. "They think your the greatest thing since television. They'd love a paper bag if it came from you. Don't worry."

Hunter couldn't help but reach out and wipe the trace of flower off the face so close to her own. They shared a smile before Francesca turned back into the cooking menace.

**********

She fell to her knees on the cushioned floor. Her breath rasped in and out of her lungs as she tried to force oxygen into them. The sweat cascaded off her body onto the blue rubber matting as she crouched on all fours. The air inside the gymnasium seemed to be getting hotter and hotter as her skin continued to flush red. With a final groan her arms gave out, leaving her spread eagled on her stomach in the middle of the room. She lay, sides heaving, for what felt like hours. Then the blessed air-conditioning was turned on. Blissful cold washed over her.

"You are a sadist and I hate you." She groaned to her tormentor.

"I told you so. I can for miles, all out, and still not look like you do right now." Hunter's skin had a thin layer of sweat, but her breathing was normal. She moved to the side of the room and picked up two towels.

"But we've been training..." She raised her head only to have it flop back down, seemingly of its own accord.

"I've been training for almost twenty years. You need a little more practice before you can keep up with me." She tried not to sound smug, but Francesca was so cute when she was pathetic.

"Hay." Her head was up and she was pouting at her bodyguard. "I beat you back here. I am too fit enough."

"Um, I did another lap." This time she was sheepish. "You really shouldn't just lay there like that, you'll get really stiff and you might pull something."

Wide blue eyes regarded her in bewilderment. "You expect me to move?"

"I could give you a massage to loosen you up, if you can't move." She knew it was a bad idea as soon as it left her mouth.

"I take it all back, you're the greatest!" Who could resist an offer of a massage from Rhani? Francesca certainly couldn't.

Hunter straddled Francesca's hips and used the towel to dry off the taller woman. She rubbed vigorously to get the other woman's blood flowing. Little did she know that Francesca's body was doing a good job all on it's own. Hunter was facing the heiresses feet and started to relax the abused leg muscles. When Francesca felt the warriors bare hands on her thighs she almost swooned, fortunately she was laying down. The pain immediately began to lessen.

"Why don't you ever use my name?" She was relaxing into the gentle ministrations.

"Excuse me?"

"You never call me Francesca, but I've told you that you can. The others do." She was honestly curious.

"I don't know. I can if you want me too. I just never have, that's all." She was still rubbing the smooth skin.

"You could, you know, call me Chess?" It was said too casually. Francesca wanted it so badly.

"I don't think I can, Francesca." The brunette was disheartened and happy, all at the same time. It was a step, a baby step, but a step in the right direction.

**********

"Up. Higher...Um, right there!" The prostrate form moaned in pleasure.

The lithe young blond straddling the muscular torso grinned as she jabbed an elegant finger into a tattooed shoulder-blade. Her actions elicited a howl of protest and a pout from the younger girl beneath her. She leaned down and as an act of consolation pressed a kiss to the same spot.

"You are such a baby!" She laughed at the reproachful look in the other girl's eyes.

"I'll have you know I am a great warrior!"

"Great Wuss." The finger jabbed again.

The reclined form turned quickly onto her back so that she was now looking up at the towering woman. An evil grin spread across her face, mirth filling her green eyes. Using her superior strength she launched herself at the other girl. With no warning the slim blond found her back on the mattress and a grinning lunatic above her, tickling her mercilessly.

"Get off!" This came through a squeal.

"What am I?" The barrage never stopped.

"Cute?" A raised eyebrow and a leer accompanied her response.

The compact youth couldn't resist and lowered herself to the waiting lips of the other girl. Her bare torso brushed against the linen of the other girl's shirt creating goose-bumps on her skin. When she drew back...

The blue eyed brunette smiled lovingly up at her. Long fingered hands took her face and pulled her back to waiting lips.

Hunter sat bolt upright in the former closet, chest heaving from arousal. Her eyes flicked madly from side to side as she tried to reconcile the images in her dream. She loved Jordan. She was betraying Jordan, even in her dreams. Her thoughts were consumed by the heiress, and now she had invaded her dreams. Dreams made of memories that she had always cherished. The only love she had ever known. Until now. Her head fell back against the pillow with a thud.

I love her. Damn.

**********

Francesca woke up to sunlight filtering through her bedroom blinds. She could feel the last fingers of a dream slipping out of her grasp as she reached full consciousness. All she knew was that it had been a really great dream. She turned onto her side, towards the closet come bedroom where Hunter slept, and propping herself up on one hand she gazed into the shadowed recess.

Hunter slept like a kitten. She was rolled into a little ball with the blankets scrunched around her waist, not covering her torso or her legs. Her head was buried in her pillow, her hair tousled and looking like a golden halo where the sun peeked in. Much to the singers surprise both of her eyes were closed and she seemed to be breathing deeply.

For long minutes Francesca simply watched the other woman sleep. She had never indulged herself in this was before, with anybody. She had always turned away from Douglas, even as they slept and Rhani always seemed to be awake. As the light from outside grew brighter the beams crept closer and closer to the warriors face. Soon they would wake her. Francesca wanted so much to draw the drapes more tightly together, but she knew that as soon as she set foot on the floor her protector would be at her side. She smiled as the blonde's eyes moved rapidly beneath closed lids for a few seconds more.

Sweet dreams, Love.


	20. Chapter 20

It seemed, to one bemused bodyguard, that Francesca had been possessed this morning. Hunter had woken to the sound of the taller woman diving out of bed and rushing into the bathroom, leaving her feeling somewhat dazed as she sat up in her bedroll. Now here she was being rushed into her clothes by a fully dressed and practically vibrating heiress. It was so like being with the child that Francesca had once been, that the former gladiator almost forgot when she was. The instant she was decent, the brunette grabbed her hand and dashed out of the room, dragging a baffled Hunter in her wake.

Their first stop was the children's room where Francesca whisked Snake away and began talking to him in tones too low for the blond to hear. Hunter made her way over to the three bleary eyed children as she waited for their mother. All three of them were tousled, their hair sticking up in comical directions. Terrance was the most alert, looking around the room and quickly locating his mother. He rolled out of bed and padded over to his mother, wearing plaid pyjamas that made him look like a little old man. When he reached his mama he got a kiss and took himself to the bathroom. His sisters weren't nearly as awake.

Rochel, being her usual self, peered quickly around the room before burying her six year old head back under her pink sheets. Becca was little better, seeming to only have the energy to climb onto hunters lap and fall straight back to sleep. Hunter peered down at the cherubic fast that was angled against her chest, looking serene in sleep. The three children had become a source of real pleasure for the woman who had her own childhood snatched away from her. She rested her chin lightly on the girls head as she gazed at the tall brunette wistfully.

For her part Francesca was as excited as she had been for a long time. She had a plan and she was putting it into action, all on her own. Nobody was codling her or telling her the way that she should do things and it was empowering. As she stood talking to the bald man, outlining the days events and schedules, she realised for perhaps the first time in her life, what it meant to be a Prince. To have power but control people through respect. She had long since stopped thinking of the five remaining guards as slaves, the thought rarely crossing her mind. Whether it was because she now knew Hunters true identity she could not tell. These people were her employees, and certainly she hoped they were becoming her friends. Whatever they may feel towards her, she knew that they would be in on anything that would make Hunter happy. The wide grin spreading across Snakes usually sober features told her more than she could have hoped for about how her plan would be received.

She finished with Snake as quickly as she could and turned to leave, seeing for the first time the beautiful picture that her smallest child and the strong warrior made. Sitting on the rocker beside Becca's bed, the short warrior was wrapped around the small bundle in her arms. Becca's head was tucked against Hunters chest, her little hand fisted in the fabric of the blonde's shirt, her legs curled on the woman's lap. Hunter was contentedly rocking the chair, seemingly unaware that she was softly humming to her sleeping passenger. Suddenly the strict timetable for the days events were swept away. The plan would get done, later. This moment was too precious to interrupt.

Just then a still rumpled and pyjama clad little boy walked back into the room, and suddenly found himself lifted into his mothers arms. Francesca marvelled at how big her firstborn was getting. Soon he would be too big and too heavy for her to carry, but for now she would make the most of it. She lovingly carried him over to his sisters bed and sat down beside Rochel. Terrance snuggled on one side of his mother, Rochel burrowing close to the new warmth beside her. Francesca ran her fingers through their hair as the fell asleep. This is what a family she be, she thought, as she raised her head, her eyes meeting Hunters. The two women held each others gazes as they sat in companionable silence, basking in the love and trust of sleeping children.

**********

Hours later, the pair found themselves once again at their childhood refuge, at the lake. As children, the lake had seemed like a jungle oasis. A place where the trees held a million adventures and wild beasts walked. Together they had battled monsters and savage warriors, searched for treasure and met handsome strangers on white chargers. The last had been Francesca's fantasy, Hunter always having been too much of a tomboy for that - usually playing the part of the prince for her friend. Now the vista seemed so different. The foliage seemed less dense, the trees shorter. The clearing only half the size and the lake which had once played an ocean, little more than a pond. The chubby little princess had grown into an Amazonian queen, her tomboy companion her champion. Yet the colours remained as vivid, bright splashes of blue, red and green in a world of greys.

Two sets of images super-imposed over each other, leaving Hunter momentarily disorientated. Since coming back into the brunette's life, they had never been here like this. When they had firstly returned to the clearing it had been as an owner and slave, trying to get along. Later they had always brought the children. They had only been here once, as friends, in the wake of Douglas' death. Hunter had comforted the distraught and confused woman. Now they were here, alone, and Hunter's already confusing emotions swirled inside her like a maelstrom.

She stood back and watched as the taller woman laid a blanket on the ground. A brown wicker picnic basket was set on one edge of the red and black fabric. Francesca turned to her companion and extended a hand, beckoning for the warrior to join her on the blanket. Soon the two of them were settled on the ground, Hunter sat Indian style while the heiress sat to the side. For a few moments they sat in companionable silence, just gazing out at the blue depths. Basking in the tranquillity.

As they sat together, the knot in Francesca's stomach began to tighten. She had brought the other woman here to talk, to tell her how she felt. For days she had been planning what she would say, and how she would act. She needed to tell the blond how she felt, keeping it inside was eating her up, regardless of the blonds feelings. If Hunter felt the same she would be ecstatic, but if her feelings were not reciprocated at least she would know the truth.

Francesca turned from the view to face the warrior. Her eye's raked over the sun bathed profile, rounded cheeks and long, golden eyelashes contrasted sharply with the long, jagged scar on her right cheek. Suddenly she found herself snared in the electric gaze. A blush spread across her sculpted face and down a graceful neck, making Hunter smile. Francesca reached out a tentative hand and lightly touched the skin beside one of those unreal eye's.

"I liked them green."

"Me too." Rather than looking away, Hunter forced herself to maintain eye contact.

"What do they do? I never read that far." She smiled softly.

"They experimented with, took out my real eyes and gave me these. They make me pinpoint accurate with projectile weapons. They are as sharp as any camera. The colour is what makes them so powerful, it focuses light in some sort of prism. I don't understand much of that. I only have a basic education after all." She grinned wryly. "They didn't take off, they are obvious and painful. Like most of what they did to me."

"I always wondered why they never sold the nocturnal technology. Are you in a lot of pain?" Francesca's heart clenched at the thought.

"Not really. You get used to it, like a background hum. It keeps me focused. No executive would pay good money for constant pain. Even pain that puts you ahead of the game." Her eyes strayed to the hamper. "What's in the basket?"

"I thought you'd never ask." Hunter was being unusually verbose, but Francesca didn't want to push too fast.

For fifteen minutes they ploughed through the contents of the hamper. They exchanged little conversation in that time, content just to be together. Occasionally Hunter would have to ask about a piece of food, not recognising some of the more exotic flavours. Like her education after leaving the Prince home, Hunters culinary knowledge had stopped there as well. She remembered everything she had ever learned, but relished new experiences.

"What did your trainers feed you?" It was a question that had lurked in the back of Francesca's mind for almost as long as the bodyguards had been in the house. Nervousness had caused her to blurt it out.

"It wasn't all gruel and water." The blond laughed. "We got fed quite well, lots of vitamin supplements and rare meat. Eggs and stuff. They needed us to be big and strong. we just didn't get much variety. Nothing like this...whatever it is." She held up the item in question.

"It's a spring roll."

"Well, its good." This was mumbled through a mouthful of the food in question.

Francesca watched Hunter relax, until the blond was reclining on the blanket, gazing up at the sky. The brunette took a large pull from her wine glass to fortify herself. She tried to speak, her mouth opening and closing a few times, but no sound would emerge. She cleared her throat, attracting the attention of her companion who watched as she moistened dry lips with her tongue. It was an unconscious gesture that Hunter found almost unbearably sexy.

"I have something to tell you Hunter and I need you to listen. When you've heard me out, I don't expect you to say anything, alright? This is just something I have to do." She waited until Hunter nodded and turned her gaze back to the blue sky.

"I never stopped thinking of you, even after they took you away. I think papa thought I was going crazy, I would sit and talk to you as though you were still there. You became my imaginary friend. I was very depressed and quiet, they even sent me to a psychologist for a while. I missed you so much. It was like that until I was about twelve. I started to make new friends and I didn't talk to you as much. But I still dreamt about you, I'd imagine what you'd look like and stuff like that.

"I got older and had boyfriends, did well in school all the things that are expected of you. I never let boys do anything more than kiss me. I couldn't seem to feel anything. I felt like a weirdo, I was fifteen and I really didn't like the boys and I dreamt of my best friend from when I was a kid almost every night. I never told any of my friends, I wanted to fit in. That's how I got into music.

"You used to like it when I sang to you, so I kept singing to you. I would write songs about everything I wanted to tell you and all the mixed up things I felt. I got noticed at school and papa's contacts meant that I got a record contract quite easily. That's when I met Douglas. He was older, more educated and he listened to me, like you used to. He was everything I could have wanted and I fell for him, head over heels. I forgot about you for a few years, no more talking to myself. Then I had Terrance and you came back. Douglas changed overnight and I was all alone. I couldn't go to my parents, I didn't want to seem like a failure. So you came back to take care of me." She took a deep breath, here came the hardest part.

"I hated you when you arrived here. You were just another way for Douglas to control me. You were violent and dangerous, and everyday I regret that way I treated you. The more time I spent with you, the more I realised you weren't that person. Then I found out who you were and I felt betrayed. I've had time to get to know you and put that over the image of you in my head. The aren't that different. Your strong, brave and caring. I finally understand why I could never let you go.... I love you." There, she'd said it. The last words had left her in a rush, now she waited.

Hunter slowly sat up, eyes fixed on the water. This was more than she could ever have hoped for. This rich, beautiful woman who she loved felt the same way. But did she really love the slave sitting by her side, or the idea of what her childhood friend would grow into? How could she ever be worthy of this woman? How could somebody so free love a slave? She didn't say any of this aloud, simply stared silently into the blue depths, trying to ignore the pounding in her chest.

Francesca looked at the proud jaw stiffen. She could have kicked herself as she felt the tension radiating off of the object of her affections. Yet she couldn't help but feel glad that she had told her. She had bit the bullet, and at least it hadn't been thrown back in her face. Her treacherous hand once again snaked out, seemingly of its own volition, to tilt that chin towards her. They were once again eye-to-eye.

"I'm not her." It was barely a whisper.

"I know. Your more than I could have dreamed." Her thumb lazily stroked her jaw.

"I have nothing."

"You have everything I need." She was drawing closer to the warrior.

Eye's, glazed with unshed tears, captured hers in a deep, probing stare. "Really?"

In answer, Francesca closed the remaining distance between them, sealing her lips to Hunters. The first kiss was little more than a pressing of lips, a reassurance from one wounded soul to another. The soft touch soon deepened as both women knew that they would not be rejected. Francesca cupped the cherubic face, one finger lovingly tracing the scar as their kisses grew more passionate. Hunter drew Francesca closer, pulling the taller woman onto her lap and wrapping her arms tightly around her waist. She never wanted to let go.

After long, breathless moments they pulled apart. Francesca laid her forehead against a strong shoulder. They just basked in the closeness until Hunters voice broke the silence. "I love you, Chess." The heiress couldn't stop the sob that escaped her at the sound of her childhood name.

"Can I call you Rhani?" It held so much hope.

"You can call me whatever you want." She placed a soft kiss on a dark temple.

"I want to set you free." Francesca's voice was growing drowsy.

"It's easier this way, for now. I don't need anything more from you. Go to sleep." Hunter lowered herself onto the blanket and cradled her love in her arms. The emotions of the day had taken their toll on the brunette, and the warrior was more than willing to watch over her.

**********

The silent figure watched as the blond and the brunette drew together in a kiss. Rage surged through the taught body, fuelled by jealousy. How dare she. How dare she love what was not hers! Hunter was not the rich bitches to love. She was already somebody else's! In blind madness she lashed out, a pale fist connecting with a tree trunk with a soft thud. Se didn't even feel the pain as her knuckles ripped. All she could feel was betrayed as she watched the couple lay down in the clearing. Wrapped in each other.


	21. Chapter 21

The tall, red-headed woman stood in the stable courtyard. She was perfectly still, focusing her energies before starting her callisthenics routine. She was a calmer warrior than the others, having been trained in a different stable than the others. Only Snake shared the same fighting technique. When she was ready to begin, she tensed her muscles ready to pounce, only to be stopped by the sound of heavy footsteps. She didn't need to open her eyes to know their source. As the tall shadow fell over her, she looked up.

"What's the matter, baby?" Her voice was soft, her eyes searching those of her lover.

"Have you noticed something different about Hunter?" The big man wore an expression of total befuddlement.

Megan couldn't resist that look, and stole a quick kiss from her partner. As she pulled back, she knew that she wouldn't be exercising any time soon, consciously relaxing her warm muscles. She reached for Wolf's hand and they walked towards their room. They entered the renovated stable block and made their way to the small apartment they had made. After they arrived, the sleeping situation had rapidly changed from one shared room, to a series of apartments. The twins, had the largest space and Snake and Savage the smallest. It worked out well. When the twins had been killed, the practical side of the warriors had won through, meaning that the barracks now consisted of three apartments. The couple lowered themselves onto a small green sofa they had been given, body's facing each other.

"So, have you noticed anything about Hunter?" Wolf was like an over protective big brother where the other gladiator was concerned. He couldn't always look after her, but he could always worry.

"Like what?" She knew what the fidgeting man was talking about, but couldn't help teasing him.

"For the last few days she's been in a daze. Every time you talk to her she just phases out. Not to mention that she and Francesca are even more inseparable now than before. God, if they walked any closer together they'd be sharing the same skin. It's just not like her." His face was grim, worry etched in every line.

"You are such a dummy sometimes Mathew. Francesca and Hunter have finally taken the plunge. They must have admitted their feelings to each other, and I gotta say its about time!" The smile that lit up her lovers face was almost blinding.

"That's fantastic!" He leaped from the sofa, intent on finding his friend.   
"Matt, sit down. I think this is a new thing for them. Leave them alone, Hunter will tell you when she's ready." She kissed a stubble covered cheek. "Just be happy for them."

"You've got the brains, I got the looks. A winning combination." He smiled at her as she moved to lean against his chest.

"Now that you've ruined my practice time, you'll just have to entertain me for thirty minutes. I wonder what we can do to fill that time." Her voice turned sultry as strong arms wrapped around her.

**********

Blue eyes studied the hand clasped within her own. Her long fingered, well manicured hand engulfed the smaller one it held. The hand in her grasp was golden and marked. To the woman looking down at it, it was perfection. Every scar and symbol on the other woman's body was a sign of her strength and the courage that she showed in trusting the woman beside her.

"I did that once." The amused voice snapped Francesca's attention to the woman sitting at her side.

"Um, did what?" The heiress was a little confused.

"I looked at your hands. Compared them to mine. They say a lot about a person, yours are beautiful." Hunter lowered her eyes with the last words, still not totally comfortable talking like this.

"Great minds think alike." She smiled as she gently squeezed the hand she held captive.

"Do you think you think we should tell everybody?" The question had been worrying at her since they shared their first kiss three days ago.

"I think it's a little early for that. We barely have anything to tell. I think we should get used to it first." She noticed the smaller woman looking at their clasped hands. "We won't hide this, us. People will see what they want to see. I want to walk holding hands, and hug and kiss, Rhani. I love you."

The blond actually blushed at the reassurance. "We should tell the children, make sure they don't mind. They are what's most important."

"I know. We'll let them see us together for a little while and then explain, alright?" The sandy head nodded. "Wanna make out?" As the blond smiled and leaned forward, the brunette thought that acting like a teenager again wasn't so bad. Not bad at all.

**********

"Sal, I need to tell you something." The grey haired man looked up from his newspaper. "I think you might need this." Darla handed her attentive husband a large glass of scotch.

Salvatore accepted the glass with a bemused look on his face. Whatever his wife was about to tell him must be important if she was giving him scotch. For the last six months she had been trying to get him to stop drinking liquor. She had his full attention.

"I was walking through the grounds yesterday and I saw something." She really didn't know how her husband would take the news. "I was walking through the ornamental garden and I heard voices. One was Francesca's, so I headed towards it. That's when I heard what they were saying. They love each other Sal." She waited.

"I know that Darla. They're friends, they always loved each other when they were children. I thought they might grow closer again." At the look on Darla's face he realised that he wasn't getting it at all. "What am I not getting?"

"I was so close to where they were sitting, I could see them through the hedge. They were holding hands. And before I could look away they were kissing." This time the full impact of her words sank in.

"You're telling me that my daughter is a lesbian." He couldn't quite grasp what he was hearing.

"I don't know Sal. I do know that she loves Hun...Rhani, whatever we call her now. I have never seen her so happy, Sal. That can't be wrong can it? We always wanted her to be happy." She looked deep into his eyes.

"I only want her to be happy, but this is going to be so hard, Darla. It's not bad enough that she'll be a woman partnered to a woman. The fact that her partner is a slave, or even an ex-slave will put them through hell." He was as open minded as the next man, but homosexuality had been one of the old prejudices that had not yet loosened it's hold. That coupled with the loathing directed at slaves by the free would make a hard combination for anybody to beat. 

"I know. If they really do love each other, they will make it. We have to support her, no matter what." Darla hoped that she got through to her stubborn husband.

"I'll try." He just didn't think the rest of the world would be so understanding.

**********

Francesca laid on her side under silk sheets and stared at the profile of the woman beside her on the bed. Hunter laid on top of the sheets, staring at the ceiling. They had slept this way every night since their first kiss. neither one of them was ready to take it the next step, but they still wanted to be close. Hunter would lay on her back, with Francesca beside her and they would talk, rebuilding old bridges and making new ones. Through it all, Hunter remembered her duty to protect her lover. She lept on top of the covers so that if danger arrived she could spring into action without being tied up in Francesca. Tonight was shaping up the same way.

"I want to know what you were like as a teenager? I've told you about me, so it's your turn." The finger brushing through blond hair halted suddenly. "I mean, if its not all really painful."

Hunter reached up and took the hand that had been in her hair and drew it close to her heart. Francesca grasped the opportunity to snuggle closer to her bed mate, resting her head on a convenient shoulder. "My life wasn't all doom and gloom. Well, not until I was seventeen or so." She couldn't believe that she could make light of the past like this. Something about laying in the taller woman's arms just pushed it away.

"So tell me a story."

Hunter tried to find a story she could tell Francesca, discarding one after the other. Many of the things which she had taken pleasure in, the other woman wouldn't understand. She wanted the other woman to know everything, but now wasn't the time. Finally, she settled on one of her more harmless exploits.

"When I was about fourteen, Jordan and I decided we'd play a prank on one of my trainers. He was a real shithead, he'd beat us and not feed us for the smallest things. So, this one time he had punished me by taking away my food privileges for three days. Jordan was more pissed off than me, because she was going to make me something nice as a birthday treat." Francesca interrupted the other woman.

"They punished you or your birthday?" Francesca couldn't contain her disgust at people who would do that to a child. She could clearing remember the events of all of her birthdays and what age she had been, the fact that Hunter only thought she was fourteen at the time tugged at her heart.

"Well, it wasn't a holiday camp, Chess. I was a commodity, it was like animal training. If we were bad, or didn't learn a new trick we got punished. I really didn't know any different by that point." She let out a low chuckle. "I was actually quite spoilt. They let me have my own room, but I think that's because I could be really vicious cause I was so strong. And they let Jordan come and see me whenever she wanted. It always amazed me that I was so popular with the other gladiators."

"Your just irresistible." Her voice was light, teasing, but inside she was in turmoil.

The fact that this special woman would think that she had been treated well in that environment. And, always in her mind, with every word that Hunter spoke, the spectre of Jordan loomed. Francesca didn't want to be jealous of the dead young woman, a girl who had brought so much joy to the woman in her arms. Her heart wouldn't listen to her head though, the resentment that she felt was too strong, so she did the only thing she could. She pushed it away, locking it in a cage of her own making, hoping against hope that it would not come between her and her new found lover.

"What did you do?"

"So, there we were in my room. Jordan's pacing around like a caged tiger... 

"How can you just sit there?" The slim blond waved her hands around agitatedly. The girl on the bed looked on, amused. "They do all this evil shit to you, and you just take it." Her circuit of the room brought her close to her companion, her hands still waving. The younger girl ducked out of the way.

"Jordan, calm down. I made a mistake and I got punished. It's over." She locked green eyes onto her lover. "I can't been given special treatment. I am just happy that they let me be with you. It's enough." The older girl melted at those words, moving to sit beside her on the bed.

"You really are a silver tongued devil, aren't you?"

"So you keep telling me." The teasing remark earned her a stinging slap on the arm. "Hey!"

"Oh, poor baby. Want me to kiss it better?" She stole a quick kiss on the lips.

"I'm pretty sure that's not where you hit me." At the look she was given. "Not that I'm complaining. No sir, not me."

"I'm just...It makes me so sad that I can't give you all the things I'd like to. I can't take you out, or buy you things." Her eyes were glazed with unshed tears.

"You give me everything, Jordan. You stay with me, when you could have anybody you want. You take care of me when I'm hurt and you love me. That's all I want, all I need and all I can give to you."

"It's enough." Then they were kissing again.

Several minutes of kissing passed, the two youths wrapped up in each other. They laid on the narrow bed, Jordan slightly on top of Hunter. The room was tiny, containing only a bed and a tiny bench which doubled as a table. She may not have had too share her space with the other slaves , but she had much less room to live in. The barracks were huge, each slave having a footlocker, clothes cupboard and bed, meaning that their individual areas were much bigger then Hunters.

"I wish we could get back at the old goat."

"Um, been there, done that. That's why I'm here." It was a sore subject between the pair. Each blamed themselves for the events that led Hunter to this place.

"I don't mean hurt him. Well, maybe a little. We could humiliate him....Yeah, that'd work." A worried look spread across the warriors face. "I'll arrange everything, you just need to be there."

"I hate when you get that look in your eyes."

"What look?" Guiles eyes turned to her. The picture of innocence.

"That look. I know I'm going to regret this, what's the plan?"

It took a few days for Jordan to set the plan in motion. She was good friends with a lot of the kitchen staff, and a few small bribes meant that she had access to Trainer Petersons food. She got a healthy quantity of slow acting laxatives and was ready to go.

"HUNTER!" The small blond warrior snapped to attention. She had been lounging against the wall with the other gladiators, waiting for her turn.

"Sir."

"You match up with Red." A Shout rang out over the sand. "FIGHT!"

The tall, paunchy man moved to the side, watching the youths spar with critical eyes. He hated the way that the girl-warrior was treated. She was property, to be treated like the commodity she was and scrapped when she was broken. Not to be coddled and allowed a lover, especially not a free woman. It was obscene. He saw a vicious blow land on Red, flawing the boy.

"ENOUGH!" Two medics flew into the training ring and carted the teenager off to the infirmary. Peterson wound up to tear a chunk out of the girl before him. "How dare you! I know you know better than to damage your fellow fighters. You are an abomination! You are going to regret ever setting foot..." He trailed off suddenly as his stomach began to roil. He tried to ignore the discomfort and continue. "You will be sent to the...Argh!" The pain doubled in intensity, focussing solely in his stomach. He felt like his intestines were about to explode. He couldn't take anymore, casting one hatful look at the young girl in front of him before running to the exit.

The gladiators all watched, smirking as he tried to leave. The man was moving in a combination of a skip, trot and sprint and looked like an utter fool. Before he could reach the door the sound of a wet fart echoed from wall to wall. A large, dark stain appeared on the back of his pants as he gained speed, finally managing to escape. The thirty boys and girls broke out in hysterical laughter. Hunter looked up at the observation seats, sharing a beaming, loving smile at Jordan.

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She woke from the dream, tears falling from her eyes as she remembered. They had loved each other so much, and now the bitch who made her beloved a slave, got to have her. The dark basement closed in around her as she wiped the tears away, she would free Hunter if it killed her. They would be together again. It was meant to be. Jordan had worked hard to punish the Prince family, she wouldn't fail now.


	22. Chapter 22

It was time. She had waited long enough. The damn Princess had dug her claws far enough into Hunter. She would set the gladiator free. She would do what she could never do when they were young. She would be the protector.

Since seeing the two women kiss in the clearing, Jordan had been livid. She had stopped showing up for work. The station kept calling their errant officer, simply to be ignored. When she had started threatening the singer, she had been able to keep working, showing no evidence of her endeavours to her colleagues. Since the gladiators showed up her ability to stay detached had slipped, until she could no longer function. She had to make a move now, while she still had access to police resources.

She had been planning this since the beginning. She had scrapped together enough money to buy two small homes in different locations. Neither in the same name. Being a police officer had taught her how to hide from pursuit, how to leave no trace. Her goal may have changed but the plan would stay the same. She had originally planned to take the heiress by force, torture her and then return her to her family as an example of what happened when you treated people like property. Now that Hunter was in the equation, she would have to kidnap them both, so as not to incriminate the slave. Then they would run away together. Run away to a country without slavery.

She methodically packed the equipment she needed into her duffle bag. The dark basement room was now as empty as the rest of the house. She had burnt and sold everything that gave a clue to who she was. Her police uniform and badge were hanging in her locker, pristine, not showing a trace of their wearer. As she zipped the clack bag, pulling the balaclava over her face, she bid farewell to the life she had lived for almost ten years. A choice she had made to bring here to this place.

Throwing the keys into the middle of the deserted lounge room, she was gone. An engine starting up was the only sound in the now derelict building.

**********

Francesca wished that they could walk down the street like the other couples, holding hands or arm in arm, but she knew it wasn't possible. All slaves on the street had to be identified as such. Hunter wore a bright blue armband, the logo of the Prince corporation emblazoned across it. That meant they had to walk as they always had, with Hunter slightly behind and to the left. She looked over her shoulder and shared a secret smile with her lover, at least they were together.

Today they were on their way to see Francesca's record company. They had been surprising understanding about her situation and had not pressured her to get back into the studio. The heiress had been the one to contact them. She had been feeling inspired lately, writing song after song. She wanted to be back in the studio again, so here they were.

They were approaching the large office building on foot, having been dropped at the park by the chauffer. They had eaten lunch in the park, out of the way of prying eyes. The park was only minutes away from the office complex, so Hunter didn't think it would be too risky. They hadn't even been hounded for autographs, which made a pleasant change.

As they began to cross the street a slow moving car approached from the other direction. Hunter saw that one of the windows was open, but the moderate speed put her mind at rest. An assailant would be going at high speed, ready to hit and run. As they waited on a traffic island for the car to pass, a loud crack ripped through the air. Too late Hunter saw the sun glint off a weapon, then everything went black.

Francesca's mind froze. Hunter crumpled at her feet, a tranquilliser dart sticking out of her neck. As she knelt to check on her partner another shot rang out, followed by a sharp pain in her back. She crumpled on top of the warrior. It all happened in less than a minute.

The car stopped in front of the two prone figures, shielding them from view. The lithe figure jumped out, opening the rear door and dragging both women in as fast as possible, slamming the door on a tangle of arms and legs. Seconds later she was speeding away. She made sure not to break any traffic laws, it wouldn't do to get caught now.

As she moved onto the interstate she pulled the mask over her face, ruffling a hand through her flattened hair. She glanced at the two unconscious forms in the rear, unmoving. They should stay out for several more hours, she had put enough drug in the darts to lay out a race horse. She couldn't take any chances.

The nondescript, red family saloon blended with the other cars on the busy road. A woman on her way home, not a care in the world. Not a sign of what she had done.


	23. Chapter 23

Hunter swam to consciousness through a fog, blearily becoming aware of herself. As her mind cleared, she began to take a mental inventory of her situation, careful not to open her eyes. She knew that it was best not to alert her captor that she was awake. Her head still felt like it was full of cotton wool and the inside of her mouth was like the Sahara. Must have been one hell of a dart. She moved down her body, lightly bunching each muscle, soon discovering that she was immobilised, tied down. A sudden chill washed over her skin, raising gooseflesh in it's wake. I'm naked...Great.

She focused all her attention on the room around her. She inhaled deeply, surprised when no dust tickled her nose. The room actually smelt fresh, clean with the feint odour of perfume. Not your average underworld hideout. She could make out flickering light through her closed eyelids and warmth on her face. Wherever she was it was still daytime. All the while she was listening. The soft breeze rustled fabric, warm furniture creaked as it expanded. There was no sign of civilisation, no cars or planes. It was unnerving, even in the mansion the sounds of the rat race intruded. Sure that the room was empty except for her, she slowly opened her eyes.

The light was soft, diffused by gauzy drapes on the windows, but the light still stung enough to bring tears to her eyes. She cast her eyes around the room, noticing the polished wood floor and plush rugs. Gothic style antique furniture filled the large room, making it into a scene from a romance novel. In the back of her mind something was pushing forward, but stayed just out of reach. She craned her neck to see the door, it was heavy and didn't fit with the decor of the room. It was the door to a cell. Suddenly an object on the floor caught her eye. It was a black pump laying on its side, alone on the cream rug.

Francesca! It hit her with the force of a blow, they had both been taken to this place. Hunter's heart began to race wildly - if Francesca wasn't here, in this room, where was she? What was the maniac doing to her lover? She had no doubt that this was the work of the stalker who had come back with avengeance. Fear mixed with guilt. Fear of what was happening to her beloved and guilt that she hadn't been her first thought. How could she forget about her?

She began to struggle with her restraints. She was spread eagled on the mattress her hands and feet bound at the four corners. The cuffs were bound so tightly that she had no room to flex her muscle, making her struggle ineffectual. With the drug still running rampant through her system, it wasn't long before she was breathing hard and aching from the strain. Finally she relaxed, realising that it was futile. She would have to bide her time, wait until their kidnapper made a move.

She relaxed, allowing her head to drop down to the pillow. In her minds eye she pictured Francesca, alone and afraid. She tried to focus, but the dark woman's face broke through her resolve time and again. Her blood boiled as she thought about what could be happening to her lover. As she was about to redouble her efforts to break free, the sound of a key turning in a heavy duty lock made her freeze. She watched entranced as the bolts shifted and the handle turned.

The door swung open onto a dark hallway, no daylight seemed to penetrate the recesses of the building. The figure in the doorway was bathed in shadow and Hunter couldn't make out any details. Then, like the sun coming out from behind a cloud a woman stepped into the light. She was tall, slim and dressed in soft linen pants and a sleeveless silk shirt. She walked through the doorway and made her way straight to the prone warrior.

Something about the woman struck the gladiator as familiar. She focused on the approaching figures face. It was angular and surrounded by a halo of short blond hair. Her lips were full, but her eyes were hidden behind mirrored sunglasses. Mirrored sunglasses. It was the police officer who had been at the house so much, who had been at the funeral reception. Who had driven them to the station. A sudden thrill ran through her, if the police had found them they were saved.

Her hopes were squashed as the woman reached the side of the bed. Rather than reaching over and unfastening the restraints, she sat on the edge of the mattress and reached out a hand. She extended a finger and ran it down the centre of the Hunters naked chest, earning a shudder from the body below her. Dread surged through Hunter, her hopes crushed by that one, gentle caress. This was the one. She had been among them all this time, and none of the warriors had seen it. Before she could begin to berate herself, the slender woman began to speak.

"I've missed you so much." Long fingered hands continued to trace patterns around her torso. 

Hunter latched onto that voice, it was so familiar. She had never really heard this woman speak before. When they had been in the car together, she had been in to much pain to pay her any attention. This was a voice from her past, a voice she knew as well as her own. The voice was the same, but the face was wrong. The chin too sharp, the cheeks too high, the lips not quite full enough. These were changes that age could not have made. Then the hand moved off of her body, taking hold of the sunglasses and pulling the off.

"Jordan." It came out as a choked whisper. She was trapped in soft blue eyes that she had drowned in time after time. The face was different, but those eyes and that voice remained the same.

"I knew you recognised me. All those times I saw you at the mansion, I knew you were just waiting. I knew that you trusted that I would set you free. Even with all the brainwashing that bitch has done to you, you love me." She lent down and place a soft kiss on Hunter's lips, not seeming to notice that she didn't respond.

"You look different." This was way to much information, but the gladiator knew that she had to get some answers, Francesca's life may depend on it.

"When they took me away, after the rebellion, they couldn't really hurt me. You can't kill the free that easily. So they gave me a tonne of money and told me that if I ever went near you again they'd have you killed. I couldn't risk your life like that. I had to be close to you, so I used the money to have facial surgery." She looked momentarily lost. "You do like the way I look? Don't you?" Hunter nodded. "I watched all of your fights, from the front row, I was always there. It almost killed me to see you hurt and not be able to care for you. I joined the police force, because I wanted to help people as I couldn't help you. Some of the scum that walk free, well they need to be put down. Trials are to good for them, so I did the job that everybody is to afraid to. I did it all for you, to make you proud when I set you free."

Hunters eyes went wide at this revelation. Jordan, her Jordan, could never take a life. She had always been so loving and gentle. The woman in front of her was crazy. She snapped, she gave up everything to stay with me and they took it all away. She didn't know who to blame. Something still didn't make sense; why had she gone after Francesca?

"Why did you start stalking Francesca Rose?" It couldn't be about her, she had only come to the house after all this started.

"Don't you remember? They did this to you. They let you be sold. You loved them and they didn't care about you. All the bad things that happened to you, they were responsible. You loved their daughter. I couldn't afford to buy you, even with the money they gave me. I would never be able to get you back, so they needed to be punished. To loose the most precious thing they had. I did it all for you." Jordan didn't seem to see the stricken look on her warriors face. "When they bought you, it was like God was smiling down on me. I could set you free and get vengeance. Don't you see, this was all destined."

As she reached out a hand to caress a scared cheek, Hunter snapped her head away sharply, repulsed by what she had heard. The woman she had loved had turned into a murdering, obsessive lunatic. 

"How could you? If you hurt Francesca, I will kill you." Her voice had dropped to it's most dangerous register.

The hand that had been so willing to caress her before, rocketed forward in a hard blow. Crimson spread across the abused skin. Hunter could do nothing but spit the blood from the inside of her moth. She had bitten her cheek at the impact. Jordan jumped up from the bed, and stormed towards the windows. She opened the tall French door and walked out onto the balcony. Hunter was left alone, trying to make sense of it all.

**********

The room was cold and dark. The wooden floor was bare. There was no furniture and the only window was boarded shut. Tiny slivers of light penetrated here and there. One such beam touched the trembling body of the woman curled on the floor. Her body spasmed as the drugs worked their way through her system bringing her to wakefulness. She laid on her belly, her hands tied behind her back. Already purple bruises had begun to form on her arms and neck where she had been vicious man handled.

Her blue eyes finally fluttered open. Tears began to cascade down her cheeks as she realised that she wouldn't get out of here alive.

**********

Why doesn't she understand?

I thought she'd been brainwashed.

I'll have to deprogramme her.

What if she isn't under their control?

She is.

But if she's not?

She loves me.

Didn't look that way at the lake.

Shut up.

Looked like she'd found someone new.

Shut up! 

You don't understand.

Tell me.

We were made for each other, we've always been together.

Always?

And forever.

You know, you make a lot of sense.

She should understand.

She will.

Go to her. Tell her.

What about the bitch?

You'll just have to take her out of the equation.

Jordan straightened up from the rail on the balcony, taking in a deep lungful of the fresh air. She allowed the sun to beat down on her face for w few moments while she smoothed out her blouse. Running a hand through her hair, fluffing it gently in the breeze. She turned and walked back into the room.

For the second time she sat on the edge of the bed and gazed at the woman who had filled her dreams for so many years. Hunter wouldn't look at her, keeping her eyes firmly locked on the opposite wall. Jordan could see the imprint of her hand still lingering on the tanned flesh of her cheek. She leaned forward and placed a soothing kiss in its centre.

"Don't touch me." It was a growl.

"You don't mean that, Rhani. I know you still love me." She reached out and forced the prostrate woman to face her. Her grip was firm, almost painful on Hunters jaw.

"How can I love you after what you've done?" She narrowed her eyes. "You killed Douglas." It was a statement not a question.

"Yes. I got close to him before I started all this. We were having an affaire. He would tell me things, pillow talk. It was useful stuff. I never meant to kill him, not until you showed up."

"Me." She couldn't quite grasp how this woman's mind worked.

"I needed to move things along. I killed him so that the bitch would go to prison for murder. Don't you see? She would be under other people's control, locked up and abused. Just like you." Her thumb began to make lazy patterns on the soft skin.

"Jordan, you need to listen to me, alright." An absent nod was her only response. "The Prince's didn't know what my parents did. My parents told them that I died. Francesca was crushed for a really long time. I swear. Thank you for thinking about me, but this is wrong." She paused for just a moment. "Why didn't you go after my mother and father?"

"I looked for them. They died in an auto accident when you were fifteen. God had already punished them. He told me I have to complete the task. All for you. You don't see it yet. I've seen what they've done to you. They are using mind control, drug therapy to make you believe them. Once you purge them out of your body you'll see the truth."

"Jordan, let me go! I can't love you anymore. I love Francesca. You need help." The moment the words were out of her mouth she knew that she had made a mistake.

"Don't you ever call me crazy again!" Another blow hit the side of her face, this time making her see stars.

Jordan moved over to a large cabinet, reaching inside she withdrew something darkly metallic. Hunter instantly stiffened. In her hand the tall blond held a gun. She turned back to her prisoner, gun raised aiming at her chest.

"You need to be purged. Its the only way to set you free from their power." The shot rang through the room, penetrating into the bowels of the house, drawing a whimper from a cold dark room. Jordan sat beside her beloved. "I love you. It'll be alright." She cooed as she stroked blond hair off her forehead.

Hunter felt the bullet rip through her shoulder, sending lances of fire through her arm and chest. In her weakened state her body began to quickly go into shock, tremors running through her. Blackness began to creep into the edges of her mind. All the while the soothing voice was there, chasing her into unconsciousness. 

**********

To Francesca, it seemed like hours had passed since she had heard the sound of a single gunshot. She knew that Hunter was dead. The maniac had killed her. I just found her. She had been crying ever since, heart wrenching sobs had slowly turned into forlorn sniffles. She had managed to get into a sitting position and had shuffled into a corner. She drew her knees up to her chest and buried her face in them. Her hands were still painfully trapped behind her back.

She was lost, so deep in her own sorrow that she failed to hear the footsteps approaching from outside. As Jordan got closer to the barred door she finished fastening the last button on her overalls. She didn't want to get any blood on her good clothes, she had to stay nice for Rhani. She unlocked the large padlock and opened the heavy door. Light from the hallway flooded the darkness.

The door opened frightening Francesca further out of her wits. She scrunched her body into an even tinier ball. The light was blinding after the almost pitch darkness and her eyes could not seem to adjust. Suddenly hands grabbed her shoulders and dragged her into the middle of her room. She struggled, but was too weak to hurt her captor. Soon she was laying on her back with her arms trapped painfully under her.

The tall figure loomed over her. She could not make out any details, only being able to make out a darker figure in the dark room. Then blows were raining down on her already abused body. First a punched her face and arms while heavy boots kicked at her exposed stomach and groin. In desperation, Francesca turned onto her side, desperately trying to shield herself. Before she could raise up her knees and solid kick landed on her stomach. She tasted blood in her mouth.

"She's mine." A growl.

A kick to the head and the world went black.


	24. Chapter 24

It had taken almost two days to find her. It might have taken longer had Salvatore not had the foresight to buy his daughter a tracker. Francesca kept it with her at all times, tucked inside her bra. When the heiress had been reported missing the head of the Prince dynasty had alerted the police to the presence of the tracker. Not being police issue it was a wide-band tracker. It only provided the basic area, not the exact location.

This created a large scale search of the forest area where the transmission originated from. Police teams visited each and every single cabin in the woods, scouring them from top to bottom and questioning the owners. They used maps to find the properties, but would have missed the one they were looking for if not for one thing. The cabin burst into flames on the morning of the second day. Huge plumes of smoke billowed into the air. The fire services were deployed with the cops on their tail. The cabin had not been on any map of the area, and would have been impossible to find otherwise.

When the emergency services arrived the top level of the two story building was collapsing into itself. The firemen couldn't go in to the unstable structure. they worked frantically to put it out, all hands at their pumps. The police fanned out around the site looking for any signs of the kidnapper. Deep in the woods one young sergeant found deep tyre tracks. Forensics were soon on their way as the building continued to fall around them.

Hours later, the fire was out. The top level of the building had been totally destroyed but the ground floor had barely been touched. The police swarmed into the secured building, fanning out along the corridor. With flashlights held high they began to enter the pitch dark rooms. Smoke hung heavy in the air and water dripped down the walls, creating small puddles on the floor.

"In here. Hurry!" One officer stood in an open doorway, his flashlight focused on a dark lump in the rooms centre.

Several other officers responded to his call, moving into the room. They tested the integrity of the room, ensuring that it would not collapse around them. The paramedics were called in from outside, rushing to the side of the fallen woman. Time was of the essence as they loaded her onto the stretcher. Soon she was on her way to hospital, leaving behind a small pool of blood on the floor.

**********

Salvatore sat vigil beside his daughter. The doctors had told him that although she had been badly beaten and suffered a concussion and some bleeding, she was out of danger. They now just had to wait for her to come round. Her left arm was in a cast and she had a catheter, the bruising in her abdomen causing so much internal swelling that her bladder was slightly damaged. 

The old man smoothed a lock of hair away from her forehead, wincing as he took in the sight of her swollen face. Butterfly stitched held together a cut on her cheek and her lip. Her skin was hot and clammy to the touch, the angry bruises creating their own energy source. He closed his eyes and settled in for the night, knowing that Darla would relieve him in the morning.

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Francesca was afraid. Above her she could hear the sound of glass breaking, but she couldn't move. She could smell smoke but she couldn't see the flames. Al around her was darkness, above and below. She was laying on air. Her body was numb. She was sure that tears were running down her cheeks but she couldn't feel them. 

"Rhani, help me."

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Salvatore woke when he heard the whimpering coming form the bed. Francesca was thrashing in her sleep, small moans and cries escaping her lips. Tears spilled down her cheeks. Sal tried to calm her down, he took hold of her shoulder gently. He felt her body shudder in pain, and then she was still. He couldn't believe it, she had sunk back down into unconsciousness.

"Don't worry Princess, papa's here. Papa's here."

Sal and Darla continued to take it in turns to watch over their youngest child as the days turned into a week. When they were not in the hospital room, they were looking after the children. Nathaniel and Rodrigo also took turns sitting with their sister. They would visit together, trading off of each other. They would bicker and reminisce about their childhood in the vain hope that it would bring their sister back to them.

After her reaction with Salvatore on the second day she had made no move towards waking up. Even the children had not elicited a response from her. Her body was recovering remarkably quickly, the bruises already fading to a sickly yellow. The butterfly stitches had been removed, leaving her looking much more human. The swelling in her abdomen persisted.

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She was walking down a narrow corridor. Candles held in sconces on the wall lit her way. She didn't know where she was, but she knew that she had to keep moving, keep following the lights. The hallway stopped abruptly, a door blocking her path. 

She reached for the brass handle, ready to pull it open onto the unknown. Before she could touch the handle she drew her hand away. The metal was hot. Suddenly she could feel heat radiating from the wood, just before it burst open. It splintered into a thousand flaming peaces. Francesca shielded her face with her bare arms, but the wood didn't touch her.

This can't be real.

She walked into the room, unable to stop the motion of her feet. In front of her stood a little blond girl, no more than nine years old. Sad green eyes looked up at her from a bruised face. The innocence that should have been there was nowhere to be see, just a hollow well of sadness.

"Hello Chess."

This isn't possible.

Suddenly the child began to grow before her eyes. Limbs grew longer, filling with muscle. Skin became stained with the inc of tattoos. Scars danced their way over flawless skin. Deep green eyes replaced by laser efficient blue. Flames grew up around her, licking at her skin. Consuming her.

This is a dream.

Arms formed in the flames, wrapping around her torso, caressing her like a lover. They whispered like voices, to low for her to hear. She moved forward, determined to get closer to her lover.

"She's mine."

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Francesca sat bolt upright in the sterile hospital room. Pain shot through her back and neck at the sudden motion. Tears were wet on her cheeks and her breathing came in ragged gasps. Darla was by her side in seconds, wrapping her arms around her sobbing daughter. She thanked God over and over for letting her baby come back to her.

Darla reached over and press the nurses call button. Soon Francesca's doctor and a team of nurses were in the room, clustered around her baby. She didn't want to leave the room, but she knew it was for the best. She made her way into the corridor and headed for the nearest payphone.

"Hello, Prince residence." Sal sounded so tired.

"Honey, she woke up." She couldn't contain her tears. "Come quickly and bring the children, I know she'll want to see them."

"We'll be there in ten. Now go kiss our Princess and tell her we're on our way." They hung up at the same time. Salvatore rushed to get the children into coats and shoes while his wife went back to their daughter.

Now they just had to find Hunter. Then everything would be okay.

**********

The next day the children sat with their mother while their grandparents went for some cafeteria lunch. The children were so pleased that their mom was alright that they didn't want to leave her side. All three of them were snuggled up to her. She stroked Terrance's hair where he sat next to her, using their closeness to keep herself sane.

"Mama, where's Hunter?" Becca's voice was so sad, it alone brought tears to her eyes.

"I don't know, sweetheart. Everything is being done to find her. They will find her. They have to." The last part was whispered. Becca nodded tearfully, hiding her face in her knees. She loved the warrior very much.

Francesca was sick with worry over the blond bodyguard. She knew that she was alive, no bodies had been found in the cabin, save her own. She had to believe that Rhani was alive, she couldn't take loosing her all over again, it had been hard enough the first time. This time she had so much more to loose. This time she could fight to get her back, and she would. She wouldn't stop until Hunter was back by her side, where she belonged. 

I will find you.

Come back to me.

**********

She laid there in agony, her shoulder throbbing softly. The countless other welts on her body creating a background hum of pain. The straps on her wrists and ankles chafed. She stared at the ceiling, trying to distance herself from this room. From this bed. A long slender arm stretched over her chest, pinning her more firmly to the bed. The soft breathing of the woman next to her feathered over her breasts. She could feel the soft rise and fall of her naked chest as it brushed against her side as Jordan laid curled around her.

Francesca, I'm sorry.


	25. Chapter 25

"I'm sorry, Mr Prince, but we've come to a wall. There was no sign of them at the cabin. What tire marks we did find trailed into nothing. Whoever is behind this thinks like we do. If I didn't know better I'd say it was a cop." The reedy police officer was clearly perturbed.

The two men stood huddled in the hospital corridor, heads bowed towards each other. Salvatore had been intercepting all police information before it got to Francesca. He didn't want his daughter to be further upset, he could cushion the blow far better than any cop could. Every day the news was the same. No information. No evidence. No clues. No leads. It was taking its toll on his youngest child, and he couldn't do a damn thing about it.

"Just keep trying. I better go and break it to her." A familiar black cloud descended behind his eyes.

They turned from each other, the blue clad man striding purposefully down the hall while the tycoon made his way, dejectedly, to his child's side. He stood outside the grey door trying to compose himself, it wouldn't be right to walk in there with the bad news written so clearly on his face. Each day Francesca would look at him expectantly, just waiting for the news that Hunter was there, and each day she would be disappointed. He knew that it was crushing her, but he could do nothing but tell her the truth and hold her together as she crumbled.

Salvatore walked through the dull grey door and was greeted by the sight of his daughter laughing. It warmed his heart to know that she had not lost all of her joy. The children seemed to be acting as a balm to her battered soul. Darla noticed her husband enter the door before any of the other occupants of the room, catching his eye she instantly knew tat there was no news. She reached across the bed to grasp her daughters hand, letting her know that her father had arrived.

Salvatore approached his youngest child, bending down to place a soft kiss on her uninjured cheek. Her beautiful face was still bruised, the deep blue colour fading to a sickly yellow after almost two weeks of convalescence. Most of her injuries were healing quickly, she had been lucky, the effects of the beating could have been much worse. After several blood transfusions and rest she was almost ready to be sent home. Bruising and a cast were the only evidence of recent events.

"Any news Papa?" It was always the first thing out of her mouth. She would look at him with her wide blue eyes, so hopeful.

"Not today, Princess. But I do know something that she brighten your day." He saw her expression waver. "You can come home today. Maybe this is just the tip of a good news ice burg." He knew the joke was a poor one, but he was rewarded with a watery smile from his daughter. She was thankful for her fathers efforts.

Darla gathered the three children together and ushered them from the room, intent on giving her husband some time alone with their child. Terrance and Rochel ran ahead of their grandmother, their excitement over the mothers impending release and the unspoken promise of ice cream a potent combination. Becca held on tightly to Darla's hand, her little face sombre and her feet dragging. Feeling the child's distress Darla crouched down and scooped the six year old into her arms.

"What's the matter Rebecca? Aren't you happy that mummy is coming home?" She peered into sad brown eyes.

"I love mommy, Nana. You know that." Said with the indignation that only a child can use.

"Then what's the matter?" Becca had always been the most subdued of her daughters children, reminding the older woman of Francesca after Rhani had been taken. She honestly wanted the child to be happy.

"I just want Hunter to come home too. She makes mummy laugh and she plays with me." Her voice went down to a whisper. "I wish Hunter was our daddy."

"They'll find her. Now go catch up with the others before they eat all the ice cream." Telling her grandmother her worries seemed to have perked Becca out of her funk. She bounded out of Darla's arms and down the corridor. The older woman was left shaking her head in bemusement. I think Francesca is going to have to have a little talk with her children about the difference between mommies and daddies, a wry chuckle passed her lips as she followed her grandchildren at a more sedate pace. 

**********

Large hands fluffed the pillow behind her head for the tenth time in what felt like as many minutes. Francesca was overwhelmed by the support that her brothers were showing her but she could only take so much. Straightening herself on the couch she turned to the two men seated in the arm chairs beside her.

"Boys, you can relax. I'm not going to break, I actually feel fine except for my arm." At the raised eyebrows from both men she realised that it wasn't entirely true. "I miss Hunter. But bugging me isn't helping."

"We only want to help you Francesca, just tell us how." Rodrigo's usually jovial face was anything but. He had a caring side that few but Francesca and Darla saw. Francesca felt tears start to well up in her eyes.

"Tell us about Hunter." Nathaniel was gruffer, more uncertain than his younger siblings, but he too wanted to be useful.

"I can't...I...She's in so much danger." The tears began to cascade down her face, choking sobs stealing her breath. She felt gentle arms wrap around her, her head rested on a broad shoulder. Beside her Nathaniel held his baby sister in his arms, while in front of her Rodrigo took her slender hands in his.

"You don't have to talk about the kidnapping Princess, don't cry." He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles soothingly.

"You know about us?" Francesca's tears gradually stopped as she looked shyly through her lashes.

"I'm not blind." Rodrigo smiled.

"And I'm not stupid. So together we worked it out." Her older brothers usual dry delivery made her smile, just a little.

"We're in love...um..." She felt suddenly giddy as she said those precious words. A blush covered her face.

The two older men shared a smile. Maybe they weren't very good nurse maids, but they were pretty good brothers. Pretty nosey too. At least this should take her mind off the horrific events of the last few weeks and hopefully remind her of happier times.

**********

"Wake up baby." It was a faint whisper, dreamlike.

In her dream she was floating on a cottony soft cloud. Only the cloud was wrapped all around her like a cocoon, not simply underneath her. It seemed to be getting tighter and tighter, seeping through her skin. Invading her brain.

"Wake up!" The voice seemed to be getting closer. Was it Chess? Was this cloud nine?

"Wake up, damn it!" The voice was loud and angry. Hunter knew that sort of voice, that sort of command. She tried to comply, but her body would not cooperate. The cottony cloud in her brain made her too confused.

Sudden white hot pain lanced through her shoulder. A scream was ripped from her throat as she sudden hit consciousness head on. Electric eyes blinked open, trying to hold back the stinging tears that the pain created. If she could she would have rocketed upright, gasping for air. Restrained as she was she had to made do with dragging in painful breaths from her reclined position.

"There you are. I thought you'd never wake up." Jordan trailed gentle fingers over Hunters burning cheeks. "Sorry I had to do that, but I couldn't let you sleep the day away, now could I?" She smiled beatifically down at the younger woman before planting a rough kiss on her lips.

Hunter didn't bother to struggle, she had at the beginning, but after weeks or torture and violence she couldn't bring herself to care anymore. Francesca had died in the fire, she had nothing to fight for. She waiter for the kiss to end, which seemingly took an eternity, the thrusting tongue in her mouth making her want to gag. Then it was over and she was left alone for a few blissful moments of clarity. It wouldn't last long, her head was only clear in her first waking moments, as soon as Jordan returned she would be rendered helpless.

Hunter began to feel all of the sensations that constantly coursed through her body. The one that screamed for attention was her right shoulder. The gunshot wound still occasionally seeped blood, the area around it was red and swollen. Infection had started to set in, and the fact that Jordan would use it as another way to control her kept it open. She craned her head as best she could to get a glimpse of it, and was dismayed to see a yellowish ooze leaking out of it. The infection was getting worse. Her body temperature was too high, a fever having taken residence in her body over the last few days.

She heard Jordan's footsteps approaching the door to the room that they shared. The apartment was small, but beautifully decorated. In her more coherent moments Hunter wondered how the other woman could afford to rent it without a job. Such contemplation was rare. As the door began to open, the warrior sent up a silent prayer to the woman that she loved. She hoped beyond hope that the spirit of the other woman heard her thoughts.

Jordan sat down on the edge of the bed and gazed adoringly down at the other woman. She knew that Hunter didn't remember that they were in love yet, the mind control was still too strong but she was working on that. Each day she added new chemicals into the other woman's body, it was just a matter of time before she found the antidote to the mind altering chemicals that the Prince's had pumped into her.

"Time for you medicine baby." She swabbed an area on the other woman's arm, just below the elbow. Expertly she injected the contents of the syringe into a vein.

Almost instantly Hunter felt herself slipping away. All day she would walk as though through a fog. Jordan was in total control of her body after the injections, she became nothing but an automaton. Even had she been mentally unencumbered, her body was too weak to attempt an escape. Jordan quickly unlocked the restraints from her wrists and ankles, freeing the other woman. She ushered her into the bathroom gently, with great care.

Hours passed, with the woman going through the motions of a domestic couple. Jordan would direct Hunter and she would obey simple instructions through her haze. As the day progressed Jordan injected further dose of medication into her lovers body. However as night grew closer the final injection began to wear off, once again freeing Hunter from the fog. Jordan was no fool, already having tied the other woman down on the large, soft bed.

Hunter knew what was coming, she had been ordered to strip naked while still compliant and now laid spread eagled and bound. They had played out this scenario several times. She now watched, her head propped up on pillows, as the lithe blond stripped out of her own clothes. Slowly, Jordan climbed onto the bed, crawling her was up her captives body. She felt the burning heat coming off the gladiator in waves, but cast any thoughts of fever aside. Hunter was in the heat of passion. She lowered her head to the other woman's breast, taking a nipple into her moth. As she began to suckle she heard a whimper. She smiled around the flesh and began to caress it with her tongue, until she hear the words.

"Help me Chess." It was a whispered sob, barely loud enough to hear, but Jordan did.

The tall blond bit down harshly on the nipple, tasting blood on her tongue as her teeth sliced through flesh. She pulled away from the body below her, climbing to her feet. She took in the sight of her ravaged breast, the nipple almost severed. Her anger kept on building, even as she took the medical supplies out of a drawer and crudely reattached the flesh.

"She still has power over you." A hard slap landed on her face, followed by several punches to her mid-section and wounded shoulder. "I will purge you, I promise. You will be free of that witch." The irate woman threw clothes on quickly before returning to the bed with a syringe. As soon as it emptied into the other woman's neck she was unconscious. She then left the room, slamming the door hard behind her.

********** 

The phone was taken from her hand by gentle fingers and placed carefully in its cradle. Francesca stood staring at it, like a creature of myth which had just jumped out at her. All around her he house was buzzing, the police having traced the crazed and threatening call. Yet she felt frozen, had she just heard what she thought she had or was she dreaming again?

"Princess, are you alright?" Darla was worried by her daughters lack of reaction to her kidnappers call.

"Mama, was that real?" Her blue eyes were pleading as they turned to the older woman.

"Yes, it was real. The police are on their way to the house it came from now. they should be there in twenty minutes."

"Rhani's coming home." Francesca was almost giddy with joy. "I never thought that I would be so happy to be sworn at, abused and threatened with death in my life."

"This is good news, Francesca, but don't get your hopes too high. You could be disappointed. I mean, I could hear what that lunatic was screaming. This is a delicate time." She could see that her daughter was not to be deflated. Lets join your father in the study, the police told him they would keep him informed."


	26. Chapter 26

Once again Francesca was left crushed by the news from the police. She had been hysterical after their call and needed to be sedated and taken to bed. Salvatore and Darla were worried sick about their daughter, she couldn't take much more disappointment. The older couple had been present when the detective had arrived at the mansion over two hours later. They had known that the news couldn't be good. There should have been a call. As soon as they heard the knock on the door a cloud of foreboding had descended on them...

...The door opened to reveal the stoney face of one of the case detectives. Salvatore simply stood back and allowed the other man to walk through the door. He closed the door and walked towards his study without looking back. He knew that the other man would follow. As they walked into the study, he saw his daughters face drop. He moved to sit beside his wife and daughter, leaving the detective the seat behind the desk.

"Its bad news I'm afraid. We found the apartment building but they were already long gone. I don't know how she does it. There were a few more traces this time, daily use items left in the cupboards, but as yet the only prints we've found are the slaves." He continued to look at his notes. He never noticed the venom directed at him by the young heiress.

"I understand that you want her caught Mr Prince, but you shouldn't be too concerned about the slave. We found a fairly large amount of blood on the bed as well as some signs of infection. It doesn't look good for her." A low keening began to come from the young brunette. The detective looked up from his notes and saw the murderous rage in the singers eyes.

"How dare you! She is not just a slave! She will not die! She can't!" Her voice was getting louder and louder as tears streamed down her face. As she spoke she rose from her seat, only to fall to the floor in a heap, sobbing uncontrollably.

Salvatore glanced at the detective, making it clear that he was to stay where he was. He knelt down and scooped his shuddering child into his arms and carried her out of the room and up the stairs. As he was taking her to bed, Darla called up a medic to come and sedate her child.

Half an hour later, with Francesca passed out, her parents sat opposite the police officer. They were ready to hear everything. The detective told them everything that the police had found. the only thing that even remotely resembled a clue had been the word 'box' that had been crudely written onto the pillow in blood. It had taken the cops on the scene a while to decipher what the word actually said, if it was a word at all.

"So, you see, we really have nothing more to go on now than we did to start with. If you can tell your daughter what we found when she wakes up, maybe she can tell us something." When the young man left they were both in a state of shock...

**********

Darla convinced Salvatore to hold back the information for a few days to allow Francesca a chance to calm down and come to terms with the new information. She seemed to be coping considerably better than they could have hoped. Francesca had been the one to explain what had happened to the children. Terrance had taken it in stride, being the strong little man he thought he should be. Rochel was upset, but her tears had been the short lived tears of a confused child. Becca on the other hand was almost as devastated as her mother. Francesca had cradled her in her arms and rocked her until she fell into an exhausted sleep.

When she thought that Francesca had had enough time to remain calm, Darla gave her the police information that they had received. She left the younger woman alone to read, if their places were reversed she would want to be alone to read about Sal. Francesca was left in her room, sitting on Hunter's side of the bed as she spread the paper around her. The first thing to catch her eye were the photographs of the apartment. It was small, yet stylish. It had not been destroyed in any way. It looked clean and comfortable. She riffled through the pictures of each room until she came to the bedroom.

The room was large, dominated by an equally large double bed. What made her heart start to beat faster was what was on the bed. The binds on the bed were obviously used to tie the warrior down, imprisoning her. Tears began to leak from her eyes as she got to the photo of the bed itself. The sheets were stained with Rhani's blood and some yellowing stains that looked like some sort of infection.

She closed her eyes briefly, trying to regain her composure as she shuffled to the last photo. When she opened them again what she saw hit her like a blow. It was a word, written in blood. To other people it would have been almost unreadable, childlike scribbling. But Francesca it was easy to read, Rhani had always written like a blind spider crawling over the page. She read the single word over and over, trying to understand what it meant. It was obviously a message for her.

'Box', what sort of box?

Is there something in a box in the apartment?That couldn't be it, the police would have found something.

Maybe I have something that can help. But what?

She lay back on her bed, the rest of the information in the brown folder forgotten as she tried to imagine what her beloved was trying to tell her. As she allowed her eyes to roam around the room she noticed something metallic sitting behind her mirror on the dressing table. She got to her feet fast and looked at the thing that was tucked almost completely behind her free standing mirror.

She reached out and picked up the small metal box. She found herself looking down at the remote to Hunter's voice inhibitor. The device that could, by remote activate the chip inside Rhani's body. The 'box' that could be used to find the young woman. Francesca put all this together in a matter of moments, suddenly letting out a whoop of excitement.

She threw open the door to her room and ran at breakneck speed down the stars and into the kitchen where her parents were having afternoon tea. One of their idiosyncrasies. Darla would make cakes and Salvatore would sit and watch her while drinking his tea. As she pounded into the room both parents stopped talking and turning to face their panting, but grinning, child.

"Princess?" Salvatore wasn't sure what to make of this. He hoped that his daughter hadn't snapped.

"I know how to find her Papa. Her message was for me." She was almost bouncing with excitement. "I have the remote to the thing that stops her talking. It can send from almost any distance. The police can use it to track her to her location." She threw herself at her mother, hugging her tightly.

"Sal, go get the police." Darla kissed her daughters temple as Salvatore sis as he was asked. "Baby, how did you get so smart?"

"Good genes." Both women giggled as weeks of tension began to melt with the renewal of hope.

**********

The new information proved to be invaluable to the police. It took a few more days to calibrate their sensors so that they could use the transmitters in the control as a tracking device, but it would work. They didn't want to alert the kidnapper to what they were doing, ensuring that they only activated the voice restraints at night when they were sure that she would not be required to speak.

When they finally had the machines at the right frequency they began to send out short bursts over the course of one night in order to triangulate a position. Not as exact a guide as an actual tracking device, it created a small grid that could be searched. Within a week, the covert ops team had found the two most likely locations. Both cabins were situated in the same dense forest in the mountains 200 miles west of their previous location. They would need to watch both cabins to find out which was the kidnappers cabin.

A week later the break through came. The owners of the smaller cabin came to stay, revealing that the movement which had been happening inside the log structure had been a computer controlled system. the young man and woman were more than willing to comply with the police when asked to go home again, especially after they noticed the large guns the police carried. The waiting game now began in earnest, they needed to see who they were dealing with, so they would wait.

Francesca and the remaining bodyguards offered their assistance to the police but found themselves rebuked at every attempt. Both Shep and Francesca couldn't help but worry as the time stretched on. Every day was another day where Rhani could be killed. They needed to do something soon. Francesca could feel time running out.


	27. Chapter 27

A large fist slammed into the stone bench.The sound of flesh impacting the cool marble echoed around the garden.Shep winced in pain, refusing to make a sound, to appear weak.Blood began to pulse from his knuckles in lazy spurts as he fell onto the garden seat.He sat, silently staring at nothing for what seemed like hours, but was only minutes, as time spun out before him.

Caught up in his own private hell, the former gladiator was almost oblivious to his surroundings.He heard a feint sound to his right but ignored it, there was no danger left here.It had already come and gone, ripping out their hearts as it passed.As he continued to drift in a haze of despair and self-loathing, he felt a pair of smaller hands enfold his own.Broken form his revelry he found himself gazing into the worriedeyes of the woman he loves.Knelt at his feet was Megan, running soothing fingers over his knuckles.

" Mathew, you canít keep doing this, baby." Megan cooed.Seeing her mate working himself into a tighter and tighter ball of pain each day was beginning to take its toll on both of them.She looked deep into his dark eyes and saw that the spark that had lived in them was gone." None of this was your fault!Damn it, Hunterís a hell of a lot more capable of taking careof herself than either you or I.Thatís why she protected Francesca." The hands in hers suddenly tightened painfully.

" She is not dead!" It came out as a growl. " Don't say that!"

" Mat, let go of me." His hands instantly released hers, but neither moved away.Megan began to shake feeling back into her fingers." I never said any such thing!" They were shouting at each other now, the voices of warriors splitting the gardens tranquillity asunder.

" You said she protected Francesca...Like sheís gone, forever.Sheís not... Weíll get her back." All of the fight suddenly left the big man, leaving him empty and vulnerable.Megan moved onto the bench beside him, cradling his head on her shoulder.As she began to sooth him with soft words and even softer touches, the dam on his emotions broke.He cried, not only for the woman that he called sister in his heart, but also for the gentle twins and the family that he never really knew.

**********

" Well, as sorry as I am that Hunterís probably dead at least weíre getting more free time, ëcause of the cops." Savage grinned widely just before stuffing a hand full of peanuts into his mouth.

" You really are all heart arenít you?You better not let Shep hear you talking like that, the way heís feeling heíll rip your head off." The usually quiet man looked at his companion, Savage was too dark to ever be called a friend, and shook his head.

The four remainingslaves had found themselves at rather loose ends since the kidnapping.Police filled the house and grounds at all hours of the day and night.Their presence was even greater than it had been in the wake of Douglasí murder.The likelihood that the stalker would return were slim at best, she seemed to have totally lost interest in Francesca.The proliferation of blue uniformed men and women meant that the Prince family were protected within the walls of the estate, making the bodyguards defunct until they ventured into the world at large.Leisure time was something new to the group and each was dealing with it in their own unique ways.

Savage was taking this new lifestyle in stride, enjoying himself a little too much, in Snakeís opinion.The idea of ëeat drink and be merryí seemed to have become his new philosophy.The kidnapping hadnít seemed to affect the callous man at all.In fact he had been hit harder by the death of their master.They had much in common, pondered the thin man.Wolf was falling apart, filled with guilt over Hunter and Meg was using all her time to try and pull him back together.He felt for the couple, they had been through so much.As close as he was to their formidable leader, he could not imagine the depth of pain that the big gladiator was feeling over her absence.What about me?He pondered for a moment.He was sad, yet couldnít help but revel in the freedom.It was intoxicating but he would never take advantage of this situation, or any other.It was not his way.

His introspection was broken by the sound of raised voices echoing around the gardens.Since the incident,the grounds had been soundless, the children didnít play, even the birds didnít seem to sing.A foolish notion, Snake knew, but it seemed to be true.The shouts were angry, raising as the minutes passed.He knew the voices, how could he not?He had heard those same voices every day for years, but rarely had he heard them fight.

" I love the sounds of warriors in the morning." The snickered words, coming from hisside made his eyes narrow menacingly at Savage." Hey, kidding!God, you people really need to loosen up."

" This is hardly the time for ëlightening upí.Now if you donít have anything constructive, or even pleasant, to say I suggest you shut your bloody mouth and help me find those two." The growled words, from such an unexpected source, shocked the smaller man into silence.He followed the tall, bald man in relative silence, broken by the occasional crunch of a nut.

**********

Quiet.Everything was so quiet.The children played, but it was subdued.Her parents spoke in whispers.Her brothers kept their distance, comforting as best they could.Everything had changed since Hunter went away.

Francesca walked the estate like a dark spectre.She would wonder the halls at the dead of night, unable to sleep alone.It was ironic, all the years she had been married to Douglas she had been relieved to sleep alone.But now, after only a few short weeks of sleeping next to the gladiator, sleep was almost impossible.She had found passages that she hadnít walked down in years and the newly rebuilt wing was fascinating to her sleep fogged mind.

During the day she would walk through the gardens, reliving memories of the woman she loved.Memories of recent months and of a long ago childhood.She was alone, seldom seeking the company of others, spending the barest amount of time with her precious children.She simply couldnít face them.She never returned to ëtheirí place.The clearing held too many mixed emotions for her to take right now, aheíd only go back with Rhani, or not at all.

Today was like any other.She trudged from one well manicured path to another, passing perfect lawn after perfect lawn.Topiary shrubs and flower beds lost their beauty after the hundredth time you walk past them.She wasnít looking at the gardens, though, hadnít on any of her walks.She looked straight ahead, seeing the gardens as they had been in her childhood.Watching herself and another play hide and seek, or tag, ruining the grass and being chased by the crotchety old gardener.A smile came unbidden to her face as she saw, in her minds eye, one such day.

Screams of childish glee floated up to the terrace.Two bored looking teenage boyscast a quick, cursory glance in the direction of the two little girls running around on the grass, before going back to their own pursuits.Nineteen year old Nathaniel went back to his mountains of mind-numbing college work while his little brother concentrated on his tan.Down below the seven year olds clearly had a far better idea about how to spend a sunny Saturday afternoon.

Water balloons sailed through the air, drenching the taller of the two combatants.Waterpoured down her face, a lock of hair plastered to her forehead.She began to blow upwards, trying to dislodge it, scrunching her face up like a clown.Still holding her own projectiles in hand she pulled her arm back and launched it at the hysterically laughing brunette.Francesca was so busy laughing that she never saw the balloon coming.It hit the pudgy child square in the face.

" Iíll get you for that, Rhani!" She playfully threatened.

" You gotta catch me first, Chess." Stillin possession of a bright red balloon, she blew a raspberry at her soaked friend and broke into a sprint across the pristine lawn.

Francesca was hot on her heels almost at once.As they ran, laughed and screamed (as children often do) they also cut divots out of the glass smooth surface of the turf.

As thoughts of Randy, the frail old gardener of their childhood, chasing them off the grass flooded her mind, she heard the sound of shouting.It was too far away for her tomake out the words but the anger was clear.She could vaguely make out two separate voices, one male, the other female.Her interest peaked for the first time in weeks, she headed towards the sound of voices.

**********

Snake and Savage came onto the scene as Meg began to rock the quietly sobbing man in her arms.Even with their tracking skills, it had taken the pair a while to find the lovers due to the maze-like natured of this part of the garden.Before Savage could make a cruel comment about the situation, his taller partner elbowed him sharply in the rips, forestalling the words that were on the tip of his tongue.

Meg looked up sharply at the rushed exhalation of breath, locking eyes first with one man and then the other.Exchanging, wordlessly, thanks for their silence.In her arms Shep began to regain his composure, drawing in deep breaths.He pulled away from the woman who should have been his wife and surveyed the other men.Savage wore his usual sneer, but Snake looked embarrassed at seeing this powerful warrior in such a state of weakness.

" We need to get her back." The statement was softly spoken, but may as well been shouted for the command that it possessed.

" And how exactly do you suggest we do that?ESP?"

" Thanks for your support, Sav.Nice to know some things can be counted on in this world." A brief smile graced the red haired womanís face.

" We need to go in and take her." The words were growled.

" If that were possible, do you really think the police would be toying with her life like this?" Snake was truly incredulous.

" Why not?They arenít trying to rescue Hunter, theyíre trying to catch Francescaís kidnapper." Almost before the words had finished leaving his lips, a dark haired form rushed through the hedge.

Francesca stood before them, her blue eyes wide and her breathing short and ragged, as though she had run a long distance swiftly.However, her skin was free from sweat and her clothes remained immaculate.This was a woman in a state of panic, not exertion. 

" That canít be true!" Francescaís voice cracked on the words.

" Iím sorry, but why else do you think theyíve waited?" Wolf looked into eyes that shared his sorrow." Every day that they wait her out, that nut could kill Hunter." The words seemed to cut the tall womanís strings, she suddenly collapsed onto the hard bench, shoulders shaking.

" I canít loose her again." Forcefully wiping the tears from her eyes, she turned to face the four bodyguards." If we knew where she was, could we do something to get her out?"

With raised eyebrows Meg mouthed ëwe?í, Snake simply shrugged his shoulders.The small group focused their attention on Shep, waiting for his response.His rugged face was pensive, as he mulled over what Francesca had just said.If they knew the location of Hunter and her captor, they could go in and get her.Their years of training in all aspects of conflict made them much more adept at this than the police.

" Yes, we could.Weíll get her out.One woman against the four of us shouldnít cause too much trouble.The real danger is what she could do to Hunter when we try this.Iíll give this some thought while you go and sweet talk the police." He tentatively rested his hand on her shoulder, relieved when rather than pull away she reached up to cover it with her own." You sit tight...um...Mistr..."

" Donít." It was soft, a request not an order." Call me Francesca."

" Weíll bring her home to you Francesca." It was nice to view this woman as more than the embodiment of their servitude.

" Iím coming with you, when you go.You canít leave me behind, I have to be there when you get her out." She squeezed the hand she still grasped." Please, I promise not to get in the way, I wonít put the mission in danger."

" Canít really stop you, can we?"

**********

Thirteen...Fourteen...Fifteen.Fifteen goldfish swam in the spacious tank in front of her.Back and forth they went, blissfully oblivious to the world around them.Serene and tranquil.Werenít there sixteen yesterday?Or was that last week? The thoughts swam around her head like the fish in the tank, making her already weak body feel increasingly dizzy.

Over the days that they had been holed up in the cabin, Hunter had surrendered herself completely to the other woman.The accumulation of drugs in her system, and the legacy of many beatings gave her little choice.As soon as Jordan saw that Hunter was willingly complying to her wishes, responding when they made love and talking about old times, she stopped the drugs.The irrational woman was satisfied that the last of the Prince ëbrainwashingí had been purged.

Of course, when the gladiator didnít make the right noises she was still punished.The last residues of her affection for Francesca were being beaten out of her skin.Bunter had always prided herself on being strong, stoic.She had never cried at the hands of the Arenaís trainers, even when they came close to filleting her skin from the bone.Yet she had wept many tears since she had been in this cheery place.Not tears of pain, but tears of sorrow over the woman who was so full of light, that was now boiling over the edge.

Dragging her attention away from the fish, mesmerising as they were.Pretty, the childish thought popped into her head.She started to laugh, but stopped with a hiss of pain as one of her many broken ribs made itself known.She lowered her chin to her chest, breathing shallowly to regain her equilibrium.She reached down and grasped the wheels of the chair, laboriously manouver herself into the den and the television.It was the only contact she was allowed with the outside world, and then only the player worked.

Sliding a shiny silver disk into the front of the player, she picked up the remote of the top of the television set and wheeled herself into a comfortable position in front of it.She tried to relax, the background sounds of Jordan puttering around in the kitchen grated on her nerves.She had to bite back the bile in her throat as she thought of what was to come this evening.She relaxed her frame, easing the pain of a broken leg and ribs and countless other wounds.

Know that I love you Chess.When I say it to Jordan I am only thinking of you.She let the silent words give her strength, hoping that when this was over, Francesca would be able to understand.A long fingered hand softly landed on her shoulder and caressed her neck, as Jordan came into the room.She placed a tray of snacks and drinks on the high coffee table and seated herself on Hunters lap, enjoying the feel of the other woman beneath her.

Hunter tried not to squirm.

**********

" Think sheíll make a move soon?" The scruffy middle-aged man stuffed a third doughnut into his mouth.

" Why would she?She must have all the stuff she needs.Bitch doesnít even have groceries delivered." The younger officer wound down his window, trying to loose some of the sickly smells that lingered in the car. Stale pastries and cigarettes didnít make a good combination.

The two police officers were doing surveillance the house from a safe distance.State of the art equipment allowed them to be well hidden from the view of the house and yet have a perfect view through the monitors on the dashboard.They would both be very glad when this was all over, days in the woods were very boring.

" Hope she hasnít killed that slave." The older man yawned widely and scratched his crotch.

" Why, Ned?"

" You never seen her fight, Phil?Sheís the best, hopefully when all this shits over the Prince Corp will sell her back to the arena.I canít wait for her next fight."

" Why would they keep her after this anyway?Dumb ass couldnít even do her job.Shows slaves arenít any brighter than dogs.Stop people having the stupid idea that animals can protect them better than cops."

" Here, here." Ned and Phil brought their cola cans together in a crude toast." Damn good fighter though."


	28. Chapter 28

The black truck moved with stealth along the narrow country road.With headlights turned out and windows tinted, it was barely distinguishable form the night around it.Suddenly, without warning, the SUV veered into the surrounding woodland, disappearing in the treeline.Moving with surprising accuracy through the nigh the large vehicle managed the perilous journey without incident.Several minutes after entering the woods, it finally came to a halt, well hidden from any prying eyes.

The ignition turned off, leaving only stillness in its wake.The sounds of the night, silenced by the purring of an engine, came back with vengeance as it stopped.Crickets and night owls sang their area to the royal moon and its loyal subjects, the stars.Occasionally the giant black shell, looking like the lifeless body of a scarab, rocked slightly but left no sound.

In contrast the inside of the BMW was a hive of activity.Monitors lined one side of the interior, allowing the car to be driven in total darkness.The monitors were linked to small night vision, cameras mounted to the windshield.They also allowed the occupants to zoom in on the cabin, their objective.

"I can't see any movement around the perimeter of the house." Snake reported from his station.

"You know what?I can't see a single cop..."Even Savage, the head cynic, couldn't quite believe the fact.He scanned the area once more."I tell a lie, there's one measly car parked a little up the road.Must have powerful magnification gear.They are way too far away to do any good from there."The cogs on his head started to turn rapidly.Of all the slaves, he had the best training for this sort of thing."They must have a rapid response team very close.We're talking choppers and shit, if they don't want her running.Probably over the next ridge, close enough to get her but well hidden.The two bozo's in the car are their eyes."Four pairs of stunned eyes turned on the weasely man."What?...Hay, I got trained too."

"Alright, now we all need to stick to the plan, no heroics.We stick together."Wolf was tacking charge.

"Excuse me, I wasn't aware that we had finished the plan."Francesca was not going to be left in this damn truck.

"If you come with us, you will put us all in danger...I can't let you get hurt.Hunter would never forgive me if something happened to you!"He could see her mulling over his words.

"As we don't have much time, I'll make this brief.If I was in that house, she'd move heaven and earth to get me out, sacrific her own life.I realise that I can't be of any use on the inside but I can stay with Savage outside and play lookout.If she's really hurt, getting her out could kill her and if that happens I want to see her, talk to her one last time."Her eyes were hard, daring him to deny her this wish.And it was a wish, mot an order.

"Fine." He growled."But you stay with Savage, he runs and you run twice as fast, got it?"

"Whatever you say, boss."She couldn't help smiling, they were going to get Rhani out.

**********

Never thought I'd have to use this particular skill, pondered Wolf as he finished putting the black and green camouflage makeup over his face and hands.As warriors they had been trained in covert operations in case they were ever owned by a Master who wanted to hunt them.The ability to blend into the environment and be almost soundless would make them a much more exciting prey.Man hunting man because animals are more important, something very ironic about that.I'll have to wax philosophical about it with Hunter, later.He and the team had been much too valuable to ever worry about being used this way.

The five of them were dressed in the same outfits; black combat pants, tight black sweaters and black caps.Snake, Savage, Meg and Wolf each had a small handgun tucked into a small holster at the small of their backs and a hunting knife in their boots.Francesca didn't have a weapon, the bodyguards didn't want to put temptation in her way.There was no telling what the hot headed young woman would do to defend her love.

They had hedged the truck closer to the site of the cabin, they were now able to make out the lights from the windows through the trees, yet they were still concealed.They were at least six rows of trees between them and the log house.They would have to get closer on foot, or in this case, on belly.That way they stood little chance of moving the foliage and drawing attention to themselves.With all the screens inside turned off and the lights out, they were thrown into total darkness.Carefully Meg pulled open the door, which slid back on silent hinges.Soon they were all out of the safety of the shell and heading towards danger.

Wolf kept a careful eye on the heiress, although he needn't have.She kept low to the ground, unashamedly grovelling through the dirt with the rest of them.Her blue eyes tracked their movements, perfectly imitating what she saw with a precision that only Hunter could match. This woman could have made a fine warrior under different circumstances.Wolf was glad that she hadn't had to find out.

They kept in single file, never speaking a word.Meg lead, and Savage took the rear.Hand gestures, barely seen in the moonlight let them know when to pause.Soon the motley band were at the edge of the trees.This created a whole new set of dangers.Between the tree line and the cabin was a short space filled with a lawn.This garden area was bathed in the nights silver light.They would be exposed until they reached the wooden structure.Once they reached the wall they would be protected in the shadows that it cast.

"We need to hustle, boys and girls.When I give the mark up and run, fast as you can to the wall and hug it."Wolf spoke quickly and quietly.He waited for their affirmative nod before bracing himself for action.I hope the cops are too busy dunking doughnuts to notice us.

With a swift hand gesture from the large man they were off.Almost as one they sprinted the short distance, soon coming into contact with the cool side of the building.Taking deep breaths to calm her racing heart, Francesca felt a sense of elation.She was really doing this.She was helping to rescue the love of her life.For a change she wasn't the damsel in distress, no longer weak and powerless. In her heart she knew that she had these brave souls who stood beside her, to thank for her newfound confidence. 

Cautiously they slid around the building, looking into windows to try and find the location of the enemy.They moved past bedrooms, kitchen and dining room, before they found what they were looking for.There, in the lounge room was Hunter.She laid on the floor in a near foetal position.A toppled wheelchair was behind her and a tall blond woman stood over her.From outside they couldn't hear what she was saying, but she was obviously angry from the set of her shoulders.

Suddenly she turned to face the window.The five of them ducked out of the way just in time, remaining unseen.Before they ducked, Meg got a glimpse at the woman on the other side of the glass.The face was totally different, but she would know those eyes anywhere.Every slave that had ever fought with Hunter had seen those eyes.Pictures of that woman were circulated to them all, one of her smiling and happy, the other of her lifeless corpse.It was a lesson.Do as we say or die.Those blue eyes were unmistakable.

"Its Jordan."She mouthed the word, her face showing in the light spilling out of the window.All eyes widened in shock and confusion, before resolve once again settled firmly within them.They had to put this old ghost to rest.

**********

The back door was unlocked, a fact that surprised them all.That this woman, so adapt at running and hiding would be so careless.On the other hand, she obvious felt that she had nothing to fear.In the last few months she had outwitted the police at every turn and had no realise to believe that they had even found her current location.Placing a firm hold on the handle, her softly pushed it inwards.

It was time.With the door fully open, the three of them made there way into the dark kitchen with the skill of a swat team.They closed the door behind them, preventing any stray wildlife or cool air in to give them away.They moved through the house, it was a slow process, they could not storm in.If they did that they would put their friends life at stake.They left the kitchen and entered that dinning room.

Outside Francesca waited.Savage sat, almost negligently by the door.He was star gazing.Francesca didn't know how he could be so off hand with the lives of his friends hanging in the balance.On the other hand, the strange, slightly sinister man by her side, didn't seem to care all that much about the people he lived with.In fact he had been very loyal to Douglas.He definitely wasn't the noble warrior that the others were, this man was a mercenary.

Savage was pleased that he didn't have to go into the house.He was all for saving the short fighter, but not at risk to himself.He barely wanted to risk his existence for the people who owned him, so he certainly wasn't going to do it for people he only just like.And sitting in the moonlight with a very beautiful woman was something not to be sneezed at.He checked on her quickly and noticed her moving towards a window a little further along this side of the building.Catching her eye, he mouthed ëbe careful' and received a chagrined smile in thanks.

If she wants to see what's going on, more power to her.As long as I can see her, she can do exactly what she wants.He pulled his eyes away from the brunettes butt and kept his eye on the door.

**********

The sloppily dressed, fat man let out a sigh of relief as an arc of warm amber liquid hit the dirt.There was just no way he could have sat another minute in that car without his bladder exploding.Ned had enough problems in his life without adding bladder problems to the list.Yeah, just what I need, incontinence and a nagging wife. So there he stood, in the middle of the night, taking a leak in the woods.Getting back to nature.

Phil was still sitting in the car.The younger officer had pushed his chair back as far as it would go.He had his booted feet up on the dash and a cup of cold coffee balanced on his stomach.He did keep his eye on the feed from the house.As he was glancing around the confines of their temporary home, he caught a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye.The young man straightened in his seat and peered more closely at the picture.

"Ned!"

"Can't a man even piss in peace?"His question was purely rhetorical."What?"

"I can see something at the cabin, I don't know what it is, but there is a large shadow by the side of the building.I think somebody is out there."Ned fastened his trousers with an audible zip.

"Show me..."The screen was tilted to him.He looked carefully at the picture. There was definitely something there."We need to call in reinforcements.If she has backup, or if that is her we need help, stat!"

Phil didn't need to be told twice.He picked up the radio and made the call.

**********

Pausing in her tirade, the tall blond looked at the fallen woman in front of her.How had that happened?She didn't remember knocking Hunter to the floor.They had been talking, as they did most evenings.Then they had started to kiss.Now the injured woman was on the floor, looking like a broken toy.

With her breathing coming back to normal, and the haze clearing from her mind, Jordan could still not recall why the other woman was out of her chair.She must have fallen.I'll help her.She knelt down beside her downed lover she tenderly ran her fingers along the side of her scarred cheek.Hunter moaned softly in response.With practiced ease She used one hand to put the chair back on its wheels, while using the other to put the warrior in a sitting position.

Getting to her feet, Jordan hoisted the sturdy body of the other woman back into the leather embrace of her wheelchair.The chair was then placed back in front of the television.The ex-cop noticed a small trickle of blood at the corner of soft lips.

"I'll have to get you a band aid, baby."Hunter nodded feebly.

Jordan turned to leave the room, but a foreign sound caught her attention.It was barely noticeable, but this was a woman on the edge.She was on constant vigil, ready to run.Years of chasing criminals had heightened her senses to be almost as acute the other woman's.The feint click was definitely out of place.If I didn't know better, I'd say it was a gun.She wasn't about to take any chances.She pulled the key to the bureau out of her pocket and unlocked a draw.From the recesses of the wood she pulled her firearm.

Hunter was too out of it to made any sound.She barely realised what the other woman was doing until she crept out of the room.Not having heard the faint nose through the pounding of blood in her head and pain in her limbs, she had no idea what Jordan was doing.Maybe she's going to shoot me, put me out of my misery.It wasn't an unpleasant thought.

Jordan left the lounge and with a soft tread on the thick carpet of the hallway, made her way towards the sound.It had come from the direction of the dinning room, so that would be her first stop.The carpet muffled all sound as she made her way to the partially open door.The lights were off, to protect her from view.The room was accessible from both the kitchen and the hallway, and as she watched three figures were making their way to the hallway.

She couldn't see their faces, but that didn't matter.they were here to take Hunter away and that would never happen again.She had fought to hard to rescue her from the evils of the world.She had set her free and nobody was going to make her go back to a life of drudgery and orders. 

She raised the gun in her hand and fired at the first intruder.The blast from the gun flared brightly in the room before the body fell to the floor with a thud.In rapid succession the other two fell.She didn't even allow them to raise there weapons.They all lay unconscious on the floor.She could just make out the stain spreading over the floor beneath them.

"That'll teach them not to send people after me."She pulled the door closed and flipped on the light."Looks like its time to move on, again.They won't send another wave until they get a report from these clowns....Cops are so predictable."


	29. Chapter 29

Peering through the window, Francesca's eyes widened in horror. The sudden, bright flash of light cleared to reveal a dark lump on the floor. A second and third shot almost blinded her, too bright in the night. Soon the spots cleared from her vision, showing her the lifeless bodies of her three comrades. As fast as she could, she back peddled away from the cabin. She moved too quickly and landed on her arse in the dirt, heart racing so fast that she thought it might break through her chest.

Her head was spinning. She couldn't believe what she had seen. They were dead. She hadn't even heard the sound of the gun shots. It had been like watching some sort of sick mime play out before her. Sucking huge lungful's of air she calmed down enough to realise that she had to get Savage and do something.

Scrambling to her feet, she ran towards Savage. The reticent warrior had been paying no attention to her actions. As she reached him, she saw that the man was in a light doze. Under different circumstances she would have been shocked, even angry, but she didn't have the time. In the same way that she knew, by running along the side of the building, she could have been seen. It wasn't important.

"Savage." It was a hiss.

"What." The man was instantly alert, pulling his feet beneath him and moving into a crouch.

"She saw them....She saw them and she shot them." Unbidden, tears welled in her eyes.

"Fuck!" He could see the wheels turning in her head, nothing good could come of this.

Before he could blink, Francesca was wrapping her hand around the cool metal of the door handle. Before he could stop her, she was through the door. Breathing out an exasperated sigh he began to follow her. The sudden sound of approaching cars made his head snap in the direction of the sound. Coming up the dirt road, at speed, were what looked like hundreds of slashing blue lights.

Savage was caught between following his charge and saving his own skin. He was not an honourable man, he wasn't like the others. He couldn't risk getting caught by the police for any reason. Slaves were treated poorly at best. In the few brief seconds it took him to make his decision, he knew that Francesca was out of reach even though she was just beyond the door. 

Sorry my brothers, was his last thought as he sprinted into the dense woods. He quickly disappeared from view. The distant sound of a truck engine starting could be herd before the air was filled with the sound of sirens.

**********

The click of the door closing behind her made Francesca jump. She was alone in a psychopaths house and Savage had clearly deserted her. She had to stay calm. Stay calm, yeah that's easy. She wanted to snort in derision, fear making her light headed, but she held it back.

She was blind in the kitchen, the light in the room different to that outside. There was no moon here to illuminate her surroundings. She was scared, and the idea of waiting around while her eyes adjusted was unappealing. It took all her courage, but she moved forward. Step, by tentative step, she made her way towards her lover. 

She was almost to the door, when she stumbled over a chair. Before she could fall she managed to right herself, but she couldn't catch the chair. The wooden piece of furniture clattered to the floor. The noise as loud as thunder in the silence of the house. Again Francesca's heart began the rapid drumming beats of a cornered rabbit. She was paralysed, waiting for the figure to come through the door. It wasn't possible that she hadn't heard the clatter.

Within seconds the door was thrown open, smacking into the wall with a loud thud. The young, dark haired woman, couldn't help but jump at the sound. The slight adjustment that her eyes had made to the darkness was quickly eradicated as a long fingered hand flipped on the light switch. The bright, searing white light filled the kitchen. It burned into her sensitive eyes and rendered her totally helpless.

"Why can't you just die?" Francesca raised her eyes in the direction of her voice. The red mist was already dissipating from her vision. She could just make out the shadowing figure in the doorway.

"My agent won't let me." Where did that come from? Francesca, this is your brain, shut your mouth!

"You think this is funny? I knew you didn't really care about her! Your just a self serving bitch." The words were spat with such venom, that the intruder took a step back. "Don't move!"

Freezing on the spot, chest rising and falling rapidly, she waited. Her vision once again clear, she saw the tall blond stalking towards her. Blue eyes tracked down the dangerous woman's body, drawn to the gun gripped firmly in her hand. Francesca couldn't help but be fascinated by the other woman. This was the women that had owned Rhani's heart for so many years. Short, blond hair surrounded a soft, almost serene face. All her anger and bitterness was in her blue eyes.

"Jordan, you don't have to do this...She will always love you, deep in her heart." The heiress knew that this was a long shot.

Maybe you should listen to her.

Does she think I'm a fool?

She might be serious.

She doesn't care about me.

She cares about Hunter.

No she doesn't! 

Maybe you should give up.

She can't have her.

She isn't yours anymore.

She'll always be mine!

"She's mine!" The words were screamed in her victims face. Francesca had stood mesmerised as the other woman seemed to go through an inner struggle, all the while tightening her grip on the weapon in her hand. Before the brunette could say another word she was silenced. "Shut up!"

Blue and red light suddenly burst through the windows, filling the room. The colours swirled red to blue, blue to red. Sometimes mixing to purple as they speeded up. They gave the two woman an almost surreal appearance as they stood in their tableau. The splintering of glass drew Jordan's attention away from the other woman. Hurtling through the window came a metal rod. Following the sound of breaking glass came the sound of the police. All homes, even cabins, were sound proof, the only way to make any deals from outside was to break the glass.

The sound of a helicopter drowned out all the others sounds, an intense searchlight moving back and forth over them. Seeing the crazed woman temporarily distracted, Francesca knew that she had to seize the opening and lunged at her. Her feet left the floor and she hit the woman with all her weight. The two of them dropped to the floor in a heap of arms and legs. The gun skittered across the floor.

As they began to struggle, Francesca realised just how strong the other woman was. Her slender frame hid a strength that she could not match. In the background they could hear the voice of the head police officer. Using a loud speaker he must have been making demands, but the two combatants could not make any sense out of his words. Jordan was wrapped up in her rage, focused solely on the woman who was a thorn in her side. Francesca couldn't hear through the pounding of the blood in her ears.

A pain seared through her side as Jordan landed a solid punch to her right kidney. Instinctively curling into a ball, as she had done many times when Douglas hit her, she waited for the next blow. When it didn't come, she looked up, and up into the grinning face of a murderer. Jordan stood over her, gun once more firmly in hand. This time the weapon was aimed right at her head. Tipping the gun, Jordan made a gesture that clearly mean Francesca should stand. There she was, at point blank range, in front of a crazy woman.


	30. Chapter 30

Francesca! The sound of her lover's voice in the confines of the cabin sent a bolt of fear through the injured warrior. That she was arguing with Jordan trebled it. Gun shots had already rung throughout the small building. She had hoped it was the police, finally stopping the other woman, because as much as she had loved Jordan, the woman who had held her hostage was not her. The creature behind the blue eyes was a monster from her nightmares, not the angel of her dreams. It was now obvious that whoever had been shot, it wasn't her.

She tried to move her broken body. Her hands were too badly broken to even grasp the large wheels of the chair. She gazed down at her traitorous digits, seeing them as little more than pounded pieces of meat, filled with chips of bone. Distracted by her own pain and self loathing. the fog of pain clouding her senses , she did not at once register the strobing blue an red lights streaming through the windows.

Hunter's already pounding heart sped up another notch, feeling as though it would burst through her breast and land on the carpet, still beating and raw. Broken in so many ways. She should have felt relief, the cavalry had arrived, yet a sense of foreboding had taken residence in her small frame. A leaden weight in the pit of her stomach. So many things could go wrong. Francesca could be hurt in so many ways, both accidentally and with intent. If Jordan hurt the beautiful singer, Hunter would not rest until she was a cooling body. 

The voices in the kitchen had quieted since the police came, the warriors once keen hearing dulled too much by ain to hear their lowered voices. She closed eyes that danced as much with white spots as blue lights, trying to calm her spinning mind. The lights still played on the inside of her eyelids, but her focus became the prayer in her head. A mantra to keep the woman she loved safe. she sent her the only help she could. She gave Francesca her hope.

**********

"Put the gun down. Nobody has to get hurt." The sound of the police loud hailer spread through the kitchen, using the acoustics of the spartan room to echo strangely around them.

The two women could easily be seen by through the large windows. Silhouettes standing like a dangerous mime in a room painted in swirling lights. Two tall, slender figures, one circling the other in a strange ballet. One gun shaped hand moving constantly. The other figure cowered under the assault. The waiting cops didn't know who the second figure was, it couldn't be the slave she was smaller and wider than this willowy form. Whoever she was, they could do nothing to help her, they were little more than spectators to the drama in front of them. If they rushed in they could get everybody in the cabin killed and they wanted to take the kidnapper alive, she would be an example to other crazies out there. They would have to wait for a window of opportunity, if there was one.

"Nobody has to get hurt." Sarcasm dripped from Jordan's tongue. She moved around Francesca like a cat toying with a mouse, but this was no housecat...this was a tiger. The cool barrel of the gun traced a path across the singers flushed cheeks and trembling lips, as Jordan walked around and around. "He's wrong you know...Somebody does have to get hurt and that somebody is you." A mocking burst of laughter freed itself from the long column of her throat. "Shooting you will be like an exorcism, you will no longer haunt my love and she can be happy knowing that you will never try to take her back into slavery again." 

Francesca was not a stupid woman, she knew that Jordan was very serious, and obviously delusional. You need to calm down and think. The statuesque young woman let out a long shaky breath, Jordan letting out another mirthless bark of laughter at the sound. Okay, deep breaths, in and out, in and out. Alright Princess, she's really close to you and she keeps putting the gun on you....So I need to get her to step away. That was easier thought than done, because in no way did she want to startle the unstable woman. She caste her eyes around the room, trying to find something that could help her. A sudden ridiculous thought popped into her head, and she had to hold back a hysterical laugh. I should ask for a glass of water...get a last meal. Moments passed in relative silence, the two women caught up in their own thoughts, the sound of the police no more important than the buzzing of insects. What the hell.

"C...c...can I have a g...g...glass of water?" Her voice trembled just above a whisper.

"What?" Jordan's eyes were almost comically wide, her voice clearly incredulous as she walked to stay in front of the other woman, little more than a foot of space between them.

Francesca shakily raised her head and looked Jordan in the eye. Never show fear to an animal. "Can I have a g...glass of water....p...please?" She sounded desperate to her own ears.

Francesca watched the other woman's face go blank, like a slate wiped totally clean. Her mouth went slack and her eyes seemed to glaze over. Francesca almost expected her eyes to roll up into her head and for the blond to fall down in a feint. Taking a chance Francesca moved to scratch her nose, and found the gun unerringly aimed at her temple, even though Jordan's countenance remained otherwise frozen.

This woman is unbelievable!

She's scared.

She should be.

You don't have to do this....

What?

Hunter will never forgive.

She wants her dead too...

No she doesn't...she wants to be free.

She is free.

And you are blind!

Suddenly the inside of her head reverberated with silence. Like the aftermath of a slamming door when a loved one has left the room. Momentarily confused, Jordan took a step back from her prisoner, the gun wavering in her hand. Shaking her head slightly to clear it, she tried to focus on what the other woman had said. 

"No you can't have a g....." The explosive sound of gunfire cut off her words as the police fired on the pair. Jordan's movements had placed her in a excellent location, they could shot without endangering he other figure too much.

The volley of bullets flew through the air, causing both Francesca and Jordan to dive for cover. Francesca ducked behind a counter, finding her back pressed to a partially open cupboard. As her back hit the wood, a large skillet fell from the doorway and landed with a loud clang on the stone floor. It would have been a nerve rattling sound, if the sound of shots hadn't drowned it out. Her mind working in overdrive, the heiress wrapped her hands around the handle of the frying pan and hefted it into her grip. Now this has possibilities. Raising herself onto her knees, she peered cautiously over the edge of the counter as the shots died down. 

Jordan lay on the floor in the middle of the room, the gun still tightly grasped in her hand and her chest steadily rising and falling. A small pool of blood spread out under one shoulder. Millions of scenarios began to play themselves out in Francesca's mind, but before she could make a move, the prone figure began to stir and sit up groggily. Jordan looked blearily around the garishly illuminated room, staggering to her feet, she was ready to locate her prey.

CLANG! The skillet hit the back of the blond head. Almost in slow motion the willowy woman spun around with the force of the blow, locking eyes with her prey who it now seemed had become the predator. Blue eyes rolled back, leaving only pools of white, until she finally sagged to the floor in a boneless heap. The gun shot out of nerveless fingers and skittered across the floor and underneath the refrigerator.

Francesca quickly satisfied herself that the crazy woman was out cold she threw the pan to the floor in disgust and marched out of the kitchen. She knew that she should check on the others, find out if they were alive or dead, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Her mind was focused on one thing and one thing alone. Rhani. She had to get to Rhani. 

**********

Hunter couldn't help but hear the sound of many guns discharging into the cabin. Her whole body tensed in the chair, her hands once again clawing futiley at the wide aluminium handles on the wheels. Sitting in the stillness of the lounge, the television still playing to itself, Hunter felt more of a prisoner than she had in all her life. As the little shots died down, fading into eventual nothingness, tears sprang to the metallic eyes and spilled over hollow cheeks. Deep in her heart she knew that both women were dead, her past and her future destroyed. Her heart turned to dust. 

The sound of false laughter drifted through the room from the television. Hunter cut her eyes towards it, hating the smiling faces on the flat screen. She hung her head, feeling too weak to support it. Her last vestiges of strength had been drained away with the death of her beloved. Realising that the torment of the happy voices would continue she painfully cleared her throat.

"Voice commands on..." Her throat was raw, it had been a long time since she had spoken with any real volume. "TV off." The screen went instantly black.

Silenced now wrapped around her like a blanket, or a shroud. The soundproof room kept the noise of the police out, the whirling lights the only sign of their existence. Blood pumping, heart beating, head pounding and laboured breathing were the only sounds left to fill her ears. She raised a broken hand to her face and felt the warm wetness of her tears.

"I am so sorry my love, I should have been stronger." The whispered words were her last prayer to her beloved Francesca, all that she could offer her now that she was gone. "If I had been more alert none of this would have happened. I thought you were dead until today, then you are taken from me again." Her throat closed with the pressure of the sobs that were ripped from her chest. Her shoulders hunch further and she sank into her grief.

CLANG!

The sudden sound of metal impacting on a soft surface made Hunter's head snap up like a whip, her eyes wide and starring. Somebody was still alive in the cabin, in the kitchen. A tiny sliver of hope took residence in her chest, could it be? Could Francesca have survived? She strained her senses and could just make out the sound of something thudding softly to the floor. She knew that sound, that was the noise a body makes when you knock it unconscious.

"Please be Chess." The soft sound of foot falls sounded on the other side of the lounge door.

"Please be Chess." The steps stopped at the door, and the handle began to turn.

**********

Francesca stood on in front of the closed door, her palms were sweating and her heart raced. She was almost as scared now as she had been in the kitchen with the psychopath. What is wrong with you Francesca? Get in there and rescue the woman you love. Squaring her shoulders and wiping her hands on her black pants, she reached out a trembling hand and turned the doorknob. 

The door opened wide in front of her like a portal into the unknown. The room beyond it was filled with the same flashing lights as the kitchen, but the warm glow of the lamps placed at every corner softened their glare. It gave the room an almost ethereal quality, like the grotto in some demented fairy tale. In just a few steps Francesca found herself through the wide open door and in front of her princess charming.

Looking down into the tear filled eyes, eyes that should seem cold and empty, Francesca felt her heart swell with pride. This woman had gone through so much in her life, Francesca knew that if she had faced the same she would have given up and died a thousand times. The blonds skin was sallow and covered in a sheen of sweat, clear signs of fever ravaging her frail body. Her once cherubic cheeks were sunken like a corpse and the singer could barely see a piece of visible flesh that didn't bare a wound. And her hands, her beautiful, strong hands, were broken nearly beyond recognition. Fighting back the tears that threatened to consume her, she tilted the battered face up with gentle fingers.

"Shouldn't the handsome prince be saving the princess?" The smile that she gave the warrior was so full of love that it dazzled the seated woman.

"Thought I'd keep you on your toes." Her voice was rough, barely sounding like it came from her mouth, but to Francesca it was the most wonderful sound in the world. 

Watching those lips move, Francesca felt herself hypnotised by the other woman. She had only seen those lips in her dreams for so long, that even in their cut and chapped state they were irresistible. Keeping Hunter's head tilted with gentle fingers on her chin, Francesca lowered her lips to those of her lover. As their lips touched, Hunter held back a wince of pain, as much as kissing the brunette sung, she didn't want it to end. The feeling of lips pressing and moulding together in love was so different from the hard, brutal kisses from Jordan that the warrior felt as though she was stepping from hell, back into heaven. Quickly lips parted and welcomed the caress of tongues as the kiss deepened. So caught up in the relief and joy of the moment, both women let the danger that still exist around them fade into unimportance. 

When they eventually separated, the taller woman rested her forehead against her lovers and gazed adoringly into her eyes. Hunter's attention was not as fixed, as much as she had missed Francesca, she found her training kicking in. With the heiress in her arms, her honed skills as a warrior pushed themselves to the fore. Protecting the other woman was once again her priority, and the pain in her body was pushed back.

"Chess, what happened? I heard shots, then I heard you talk..." Her raspy words were cut of by the sudden movement of the other woman as she jerked upwards.

"Oh my God, I've got to check on the others!" She was almost at the door when Hunters calling her name.

"Where are you going? Jordan's still in the house, isn't she?" A small nod confirmed her suspicions. "Then your still in danger."

"It's alright, she's out cold. I hit her really hard and the police shot her too, I think. I have to go check on Wolf and the others. They came to rescue you, but Jordan shot them. I have to see if anybody is still alive." Hunters face had paled even further, if that was possible.

"Go." When the other woman was out of sight, Hunter shook her head. Why would they come after me like this? Stupid, reckless, idiotic...Loyal friends. It was a revelation that she had never had before. In such a short time, under such heinous circumstances, she had gone from a surely, bitter loner to a woman who realised she had friends. Maybe even a family. "Now if only I could stand up life would be perfect." 

********** 

The young singer was certainly not going to walk through the dark house, she'd seen those movies. You never wanted to be the woman walking through the pitch back house with just a flashlight. Sticky ends always awaited these women. Francesca flicked the switch on every old fashioned light fixture that she came across. Shadows were chased to the far corners of the cabin, leaving barely enough room for a mouse to hide in. Not wanting to be away from Rhani for too long, she rushed along the hallway.

The dinning room looked much smaller in the light. From outside the cabin it had seemed like a huge, cavernous room, a long way for the warriors to walk. And it had been too far in the end. Francesca steeled herself, ready for almost anything as she approached the first body. She had never checked a body for a pulse before, in fact she had never been this close to a corpse before, and it made her head spin and her stomach churn.

The body closest to the door was Wolf, his head lying under the corner of the table. Sucking up all her courage, she knelt by his side. She could see a pool of blood under his body, shining like silk in under the fluorescent lamp. One trembling hand reached out towards his thick neck, fingers pressing into his throat, searching for a pulse. Slow, yet steady beats pounded against her fingers causing Francesca to let out an inarticulate sound of joy. Quickly rushing to the side of the other two warriors she found a pulse in each one. Looking more closely it became apparent that both Wolf and Snake were knocked down by the force of the shot. Wolf had taken the bullet in the shoulder, Snake in the thigh. The large table at the rooms centre had been the men's real nemeses, as they fell, both managed to hit the table with their heads, knocking them out. 

Phoenix was anther matter, her pulse was much more thready than her comrades. Their wasn't much blood around her body, but a bullet seemed to be firmly lodged in her chest. Suddenly time became of the essence, she really wanted to get everybody out of this house. She rushed from the room, heading back towards Hunter.

"How are they? Are they dead?" Hunter tried not to panic, even though she could see the strain etched on Francesca's face.

"They're all alive, but Phoenix is weak. We gotta get out of here now." She was already wheeling Rhani's chair to the door. She wanted the smaller woman to be close by, so that they could leave together.

"Well I could have told you that Chess." The tight band around Hunter's chest relaxed slightly as she realised they were getting out of the nightmare.

**********

"Okay Chess, you need to keep calm. Remember to keep your hands where they can be seen and to walk slowly. Speak loud so that they can hear you." Hunter was worried about the other woman, but her fame should make her easily recognisable.

"We'll be home soon, Rhani." Francesca placed a kiss on her forehead before leaving the warrior in the wheelchair close to the door, but well shielded by the wall.

The tall brunette squared her shoulders, and opened the solid wooden door with purpose. She strode out into the night, the cool air caressing her flushed cheeks as she walked towards the crowd of men on the lawn. Hunter couldn't help admiring her statuesque lover, looking like a goddess, resolute and strong. I can't wait to get home. 

Outside, Francesca was overwhelmed by the noise of the sirens. Overhead a chopper closed in, its bright searchlight illuminating her light a spotlight. Shaking under the scrutiny of so many eyes, she kept her hands held way above her head, stretching them skyward. Nobody would think that u were used to singing in front of big crowds, woman. These are the good guys. Stopping halfway between the house and the police, every gun aimed straight at her, she wasn't sure how she could make them hear her. As if reading her thoughts, the sirens went silent and the chopper moved away.

"Um....I'm Francesca Prince...The woman who kidnapped me is in the house." She shouted at the police, desperately wanting them to hear every word. "She's unconscious. My lover is injured and their are three unconscious people in the house, all of them have been shot." She had begun to shout faster and faster.

"Miss Prince, move away from the house, your safe now. We'll send a team in once we have you safe." The voice coming over the loud hailer was filled with concern, more for his job than the woman in front of him. If she got hurt, he wouldn't have a career anymore. 

"You don't understand..." Even as she tried to make then go into the cabin, she found herself moving quickly towards them wanting to be surrounded by safety.

She focused her gaze on the man with the microphone, he became the centre of the tribe of soldiers standing in front of her. She would get to safety and then she would make them get Rhani out and they would go home and live together, happily, forever. So set was she on her journey, that she almost missed the look that passed over the balding man's face. A look of horror flashed across his shiny face, quickly turning into a anger. He was looking passed her and back at the house. 

Francesca couldn't help but turn, compelled by the need to see what he saw, she was now facing the cabin her back to her rescue. What she saw froze her to the core, there in the doorway, framed by light, stood Jordan. Her gun was once again clutched in her hand. Her bloody shoulder and matted hair gave her the true appearance of madness. Her outward appearance finally giving in to her inner psychosis.

"Miss Prince, get down!" The shout was loud, but the command was lost on the young woman who was paralysed with fear. 

There was no standoff, as soon as she stood fully in the doorway Jordan raised her gun. It wouldn't matter how fast she police aimed she would get off the first shot. She could see the terror in the other woman's eyes as she looked at the gun and her face cracked into a broad grin as she heard the police try to help. She cocked the gun and placed her finger firmly on the trigger, pulling it back.

As the trigger hit home, a sudden force hit her from the side with enough force to knock her off her feet. The gun discharged into the body on top of her, allowing the woman the bullet was intended for the chance to run to the police. Jordan lay there, stunned, unable to understand how anybody could have got that close to her without her hearing. The wind had been knocked out of her, all she could do for the moment was cast her eyes around the floor.

Her eyes fell on the toppled wheelchair on the floor beside her. In a rush she knew that the body on top of her was Hunter. A scream ripped itself from Jordan's through, as out in the night, surrounded by men Francesca let out a similar scream. Hunter had taken the bullet meant for her. Jordan gently rolled the body off of her chest and onto its back. Looking at the small warrior, Jordan could see the red stain spreading across her chest. A chest that was not moving at all.

Staggering to her feet, she once again found herself looking at Francesca. The heiress was being held firmly by two police officers, tears streaming down her face and inarticulate screams coming from her throat. Jordan felt her heart turn leaden in her chest.

She's dead.

You killed her.

Your all alone.

"NO!" The scream burst from Jordan's lips as she raised the gun to her temple and pulled the trigger. The watching cops were stunned. The movement had been so fast that they had barely registered what was happening until it was over. 

Blood sprayed from the back of her head as her arm fell limply to her side. Standing proud in the doorway one moment the lifeless body suddenly crumbled like a puppet with its strings cut. She landed in a heap beside Hunter, head resting on the small warriors shoulder, her blood covering them both. Her last wish to be with Hunter in death as they had not been allowed to be together in life...inseparable.


	31. Epilogue

"Are you alright honey? Do you need another pillow? Some juice?" The worried voice beginning to grate on her nerves.

"Earplugs..." The low growl was missed completely by her lover.

"I could bring the TV in here, you've been in the hospital so long. I missed having you here with me." The big warrior sat down on the edge of their bed.

"Mathew, look at me. I'm fine now, just a few more weeks of rest and I'll be good as new. I had enough babying at the hospital, a girl can only take two months of that. Now I wanted to be treated like normal." She got a resigned look from the big man. She rested a slender hand on his meaty forearm. "How's your shoulder?"

"I'm good as new. So is Snake, we're like rubber balls." He flexed his shoulder to show her it was true.

"And how's..." Her voice was quiet, sad.

"As well as you would expect, better than I thought. I guess it'll take a while for her to get back to normal." Wolf's usually twinkling eyes held a shadow as he spoke. "Francesca wants to talk to all of us, she's been waiting for you to get out of the hospital. She wont say why, but she wants us all here tomorrow...there going to invade our love nest ." 

"For shame!" She answered his pout. "I can't wait."

**********

The four slaves sat around the small bedroom. Meg laying in the bed, her back propped up on pillows and her head resting on Wolf's shoulder. The big man had barely left his wounded mate's side since she was released from the hospital, and now sat at her side on their bed. On either side of the bed sat Savage and Snake. Each man had pulled up a chair so that they could all sit and face the fifth person in the room.

Francesca felt totally at ease with these people who she had once seen as slaves. They had come to mean so much more to her than that over the last few months. These people were a part of her family and had risked their lives for the people she cared about the most. Francesca sat on the window ledge directly in front of the large bed. Framed by the window she looked like a dream, her sad blue eyes and dark hair contrasting with the sight of the gardens through the glass.

"I know that you've al been wondering why I wanted to talk to you like this, and honestly I could have spoken with you in private, but I wanted to do this with us all together." She locked eyes with each individual. "I know that when you arrived here I was a real bitch and I treated you all quite badly. But I think of you now as friends. You have helped my family so much that I know I can never repay you. My father thought he'd give it a try, though." She pulled some documents from the bag at her feet. "It's not easy to set people free. Emancipation isn't the done thing, but after what you've done I knew that I couldn't own you. Last week my father went to court and got each of you declared free men. These are your new papers. You can do what you want from now on. Whatever you decide to do, I'll make sure that you have enough money to start a new life." She finished and once again looked at the four bodyguards.

A buz went through the small group. The heiresses words were not totally unexpected, they had known that she would try to give them some level of freedom. Perhaps even let them live free on the estate, but this was unprecedented. They would be free to go where they pleased, live the lives that they had always been denied.

"Let me get this straight, if we leave you'll give us enough money to start a new life?" Savage was all about the money.

"Yes, and even if you stay you will be given the same and a wage for whatever you want to do here. Do any of you know what you'd like to do?"

"I'm blowing this Popsicle stand. I'm going to Vegas. Hire myself out as a bodyguard and have plenty of time to learn how to be a high roller. Time for me to live the life that I've never been allowed to." It came as no surprise o the other slaves that this was savages plan. He had talked about this scenario for years, and finally his dream of freedom had come.

"So you've thought about this?" Francesca was amazed with the speed of the mans response.

"What slave hasn't?" Snake's question was rhetorical. "I have always been unsure of what I would do. I think I would like to go on a journey, find my spiritual centre. But I have no definite plan."

"You do whatever you need, you won't have to worry about expenses." The couple on the bed were talking together in hushed tones before they turned to look at Francesca.

"We want to stay here. We like you and the children a great deal, and you love my best friend. If we stay, could we....um....could I be a gardener? I love plants and its just nice to be outside." Wolf looked like an expectant child.

"I would love for you to stay and you can do whatever job you want to. This whole block will belong to you. You can have it converted, you can design the plans yourself." The young woman's heart felt a little lighter knowing that she had made real friends among these fierce men and women. "I want to make a memorial to Polar and Grizzly on the estate...if that's alright?"

"That would be wonderful..."

**********

"Mama, make them hurry up, I wanna go now!" The usually quiet little girl tugged on her mothers pant leg.

"Kids we're gonna be late!" Francesca called up the stairs as she finished applying her lipstick. She wanted to look perfect for this meeting.

Two sets of baby elephant steps came crashing down the stairs as Rochel and Terrance joined their mother and little sister. They looked at a picture postcard family, all dressed up nice and polished clean. With a quick check to make sure nobody needed a pee they were on their way in the big green SUV that Francesca had bought on a whim. She liked the colour. 

**********

Two teams of children ran around the huge a carpet of lawn as they played with a soccer ball. Among the children several adults tried to keep up, pulling silly faces and tickling any child that got in their path. Championship quality play it might not have been, but to the woman watching it seemed like much more fun. It was one of those days that you could call perfect, the sun was shining but it wasn't too hot, she was surrounded by family and she had a cool glass of lemonade. Just one thing was missing.

A long shadow suddenly fell over her seated form and with it came a wider smile to her face. The cherubic face tilted upwards to regard the beautiful woman towering above her with eye filled with adoration. Blue eyes regarded her with the same intensity, before briefly flicking over towards the children.

"Hard to believe its their birthday again, time moves so fast." Her voice was sad, and the seated woman wouldn't stand for that.

"Come here." She held out her hand and drew the other woman onto her lap in the sturdy wheelchair. 

Sitting sideways on the smaller woman's lap, Francesca gazed into green eyes that shone with love. She reached up a hand to caress the skin around them. "I love these."

"I've grown rather fond of them myself, its nice to see you as you really are. I can never thank you for paying to have those implants removed, now when I look at you and it hurts its only because I love you so much." The two women shared a soft smile before their lips met in a kiss.

"What did the doctor say?" The singer began to toy with a soft strand of gold.

"With luck I'll be out of this chair by the end of the month, I should make a full recovery with how well I've been doing." Her partners face didn't mirror her enthusiasm. "What?"

"Then we have to face the world."

"I know it won't be easy, Chess."

"Why does everything have to be so hard?" She snuggled her face into th other womans neck.

"We have each other, Chess. We'll always have each other."


End file.
